


How to Get It All

by MamaKusanagi



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Demons, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Hunters, I'll add more as they come along, If it sticks it sticks I suppose, Kusanagi's a cheeky shit in this, M/M, Multi, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatutal AU, Witches, Working title, apparently a lot, how much angst can I cram into 5k chapters????, i guess, i love it, lots of Kusanagi and Fushimi interaction because who doesn't love that??, more plot twists than an M Night Shyamalan movie, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaKusanagi/pseuds/MamaKusanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously titled "The Symbol of Flames"</p>
<p>When Fushimi is called out for what seems like a normal job, he meets something unlike anything he's ever encountered before that has a peculiar symbol around its neck. A symbol that looks familiar. As he struggles to learn what it is and where he recognizes it from, he comes to realize that he was probably better off not knowing.</p>
<p>Supernatural AU, with hunter!Fushimi and monster!Yata. It has more plot than that, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catalyst

_**BANG** _

_Blood and brain matter spattered on the dilapidated concrete walls of the building, the sound of a gunshot still echoing throughout the large, mostly empty room. A body fell to the ground with a thud, a pool of red growing underneath the man and staining the cold gray a dark maroon. All the lights were off, the only source bleeding in through the cracked and broken windows. The moon was full and high in the sky, the only witness to what was happening in the old warehouse by the docks. The air was cold, as if Death itself were there in the room._

_Both males knew it wasn't true. Death himself didn't come for just anyone; Reapers were far more likely to be contacted for such a job. Besides, it was the middle of November. Such weather was expected. Sudden cold air, now that would have been concerning. A ghost or demon's presence was usually introduced by a change of smell or temperature, but neither were concerned with the air now. It actually felt warmer now. The smaller one wondered if it had anything to do with the warm blood slowly cooling, crinkling his nose at the metallic scent._

_The taller male snickered quietly, patting the head of the much shorter and smaller male. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, dwarfed by the adult he was standing beside. They looked similar other than the height- black hair that shone from the moon's rays and was around the same length, pale complexion, sharp cheekbones, long lashes, thin lips, and skinny frames. One drastic difference was their eyes. The adult had rusty brown eyes, glinting with amusement as the other flinched away slightly from his touch. The child's eyes were a sharp, crystal blue, hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses with no amusement whatsoever in them. They were narrowed slightly and flat with cold boredom, his brows furrowed just barely._

_Another difference was that one was holding a gun, and the other wasn't._

_“Still can't shoot straight, ne~?”_

_A silent sigh escaped the one holding the gun, closing his eyes. Nothing really pleased the other, but he was used to that. Familiar to the teasing abuse. There was no genuine praise, no warm and kind words. There was no place for that here, on this cold night and in this drafty warehouse. Only thin coats, thin words, and thin blood everywhere._

_The older male, still laughing, took the gun from the child's hands. “Maybe I shouldn't let you have this back- you were a couple of centimeters to the left, you know? You shouldn't be handling this toy if you don't know how to use it properly...”_

_The child looked into the empty eyes of the body, his eyes moving just barely up to the man's forehead. There was a hole between his eyes where the bullet had entered, but not completely centered. The centimeters seemed to mock him the more he stood and stared at the wound, his fist clenching just barely at the sight. Could he really not even do that right? His aim was growing better as the days passed, but he still wasn't perfect. And even though he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, didn't care about his aim or imperfections or what the man beside him had to say, he still **did**._

_He supposed he'd grow out of it._

_He still didn't say anything as the adult male approached the corpse, crouching down and poking him with the barrel of the gun. He looked even more amused when the body rocked slightly with the motion before it stilled once again. “Hey, how about we drag his body outside? That way someone will find him easier. And there's even some security cameras that I can hack into and see everyone's reactions!”_

_“Pointless,” the child spoke up before he could stop himself, pursing his lips when the man looked at him with a smirk. He continued with only slight hesitation, knowing that if he agreed that **he** would be the one to have to drag the fully grown body outside while the other male watched. “... He'll be found here about as easily as outside, and there won't be any interference in his decomposition from the outside elements.”_

_The older male barked a sudden laugh. “I see right through you, you just don't want to do any heavy lifting, do you?” The child winced slightly at having been caught, panic on his face. “Tell you what, I'll let you pick! Do you wanna drag this guy outside or do you wanna have dinner tonight? Fair's fair!”_

_The child frowned and looked away. The answer was obvious and the adult male smiled. “Thought so. Well, since you're not wanting to do any heavy lifting or work tonight, how about we head out now! You never know what type of things are crawling around at night...” He stood up, twirling the gun with his finger and whistling a quick tune before he paused and grinned at the smaller boy. “What did you learn?”_

_“It has a weakness to silver,” the boy started automatically, his voice cold and analytical. It was always like this. He would go in blind, not knowing what he was getting into, and he would have to figure out for himself what exactly he was up against and how to deal with it. “So a silver bullet killed it quickly.. Um..” He trailed off, not sure how to continue. At the man's expectant look, he ducked his head. “... What exactly was 'it'?”_

_The man's grin only grew as he strutted over to child. “Very good! It wouldn't really be a learning experience if you didn't know what you were fighting, ne~? Can't categorize it's weakness properly if you don't know what it is...” He pat the smaller male's head again, only getting hunched shoulders instead of a wince this time. “I've always told you that everything has a weakness, and that life isn't as 'precious' as you may like to think, but I don't think you've really taken it to heart...” The child was starting to get a sinking feeling in his chest. “And since this is a **special** day, I thought I would make today's lesson special! I won't keep you holding your breath much longer,” he laughed, crouching down so he was eye level with the child. He placed his hands on thin shoulders, leaning closer. “Today's victim wasn't a monster..” The kid's eyes widened, his brain reaching the conclusion before he even heard what the older male said._

_“It was a human.”_

_The child felt the cold seeping into his bones, his skin clammy. His face was frozen and twisted in an expression of shock and horror, his stomach churning violently at the realization. He covered his mouth and the taller male barely moved out of the way before his knees collapsed and he was vomiting. Revulsion was rolling through his body in waves, his eyes staring down at the concrete and his ears ringing at the sudden spike of his blood pressure. When he finally managed to focus, he heard the other male practically howling with laughter. He looked up at him just as they both caught their breath for different reasons, catching the smirk and amused expression that was sent his way._

_“His so-called 'precious' life was ended so easily, don't you think? Not really much of a struggle, no healing wounds or black smoke. Just a lonely little meatsuit devoid of any purpose or meaning. Pretty low on the food chain; it's sad, really. And don't worry! If it wasn't you, it would have been something else to show up and take his miserable little soul.” He pat the child's head again, walking towards the exit as the boy's eyes involuntarily filled with tears._

_“Happy birthday, my little monkey...”_

**PRESENT DAY**

“Fushimi! You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago, what are you still doing here?”

“Considering I'm the only one around here who knows how to do anything,” Fushimi muttered to himself, his fingers flying across the keys of his keyboard. He was fixing the mistakes of his subordinates' reports before they were to be delivered, particularly Domyouji's- ever since they switched to computerized reports and not hand written, he hadn't been able to doodle on his reports anymore. But he made up for it in a _much_ more annoying way- clip arts and various onomatopoeia that littered the entire report, and personal excerpts that didn't belong in a professional report recreating the extermination of a vampire.

“What was that?” his superior, Awashima, asked sharply when she heard his low tone. If she knew him like she thought she did, it was probably some scathing remark.

Fushimi clicked his tongue and saved his progress, shutting off his computer and standing up. “Nothing, Awashima-san.”

“Good,” she replied, narrowing her icy eyes at him as he grabbed his jacket and put it on. It had been carelessly slung on the back of his chair and probably wrinkling in some places. She hoped it did- it seemed to be a fitting punishment for breaking the dress code. “The captain expects quick and efficient results with the mission he's assigned you.”

Fushimi couldn't help but roll his eyes. 'Mission', huh? It was the 'politically' correct way to say it, but to Fushimi it was just a hunt.

They were a government faction that _hunted_ the supernatural, so why sugarcoat it? A hunt was a hunt in his eyes.

“I suppose I can't keep His Majesty waiting," he said sarcastically, grabbing his sword and gun that he strapped to his belt- the sword on the right side and the gun on the left side. He ignored Awashima's long-suffering sigh and made his way out of the stiff, perpetually cold building.

Scepter 4 Headquarters slowly disappeared in the distance as he made his way to his destination. He didn't like taking the company vehicles- and legally, he couldn't drive. He may be eighteen, but he had more important things to worry about than getting his driver's license. And he would be _damned_ if he had to ask one of those morons for a ride. Besides, from the address he'd been given, he knew it was in the general vicinity and wouldn't take too long to reach by foot. Why Munakata decided to send him out to investigate this case he didn't know. Normal people would call a shrink if they thought that their loved ones were in two places at the same time, but he didn't work at a place that dealt with _normal_. Some person believed that their brother or son or something like that was framed for a crime, but swore that they had been with them the entire time. Honestly, most cases like this were the result of the ridiculous instinct that people had to protect their loved ones from suffering. How incredibly troublesome of an emotion.

The reason he was being sent out to investigate was on the off-chance that it _wasn't_ just that emotion.

The supernatural did exist and it seemed to be running more and more rampant each time he turned around. Ghosts, ghouls, demons, vampires, werewolves- you name it, it probably existed. Fushimi's job was to hunt such creatures and send them crawling back to whatever part of Hell they had crawled out of- theoretically, of course. Most of those monsters weren't directly from Hell itself.

For this particular job, he suspected it was something along the lines of a doppelganger or shapeshifter. He hoped it was a shapeshifter. They were more gross, with how they shed, but they were also easier to deal with and less troublesome. The sooner he could get this job done, the sooner he could go back inside his office and not have to deal with bothersome monsters or the stifling August heat.

Fushimi paused when he reached an apartment building that looked like the place he was supposed to be. He checked his PDA so that he could make sure the address was correct, and once he confirmed it, he knocked on the right door and waited for the owner to answer.

It was a poor weeping gypsy-looking woman with wavy light brown hair, obviously dyed, claiming to be a Clairvoyant. Fushimi doubted it, looking at the cheap, fake 'crystal ball' that rested on the round table. He didn't mention his doubts, however, and simply took her statement as quickly as possible. From what she had told him, he was right to assume that it was a shapeshifter.

“His eyes!” she cried dramatically. “They shined a horrible gold color before it disappeared, I swear it! It looked just like my poor baby brother, how could it get him in trouble like that? You have to find it!”

Fushimi mentally cataloged the appearance of her 'poor baby brother', though he didn't know if he could trust that the thing would still be masquerading in his skin or not. If it knew it was being pursued, it had probably changed appearance once again. How irritating.

He got the whereabouts of her brother- still in jail, lucky him- so he didn't shoot the wrong thing, at least. He managed to escape small talk by assuring her that he would work hard and start searching diligently for the creature.

He had to wonder just how good of a 'Clairvoyant' she was if she couldn't even see through his sarcasm.

Fushimi opened the door, pausing when he heard a rather loud curse. He peaked around the door, raising an eyebrow at the body sprawled on the ground.

A redheaded teen was rubbing his red, blotchy forehead with a scowl tightening the features of his face. His skin was tan, which seemed a little odd for his hair color. Even as he sat up on the ground, Fushimi knew that he was shorter than him, if only by a couple of centimeters. His golden brown eyes opened to glare up at him, making him seem immature even though Fushimi deduced that he was around the same age as him. “Watch where you're swinging the door, asshole!”

Fushimi snorted. “Don't be in my way, shrimp.”

“What did you just say?!” the male shouted, quite obnoxiously in Fushimi's opinion, as he jumped up. Fushimi's eyes were immediately drawn to the symbol of the necklace around his neck. It was peculiar, in the shape of a vertical flame that almost looked tribal. He squinted slightly to get a better look. It was black with an almost red sheen to it when the artificial lights of the apartment building met it, and he couldn't identify the material it was made with. The necklace itself wouldn't have interested him... But he could have sworn that he'd seen the symbol before. Considering his job, it was no surprise. He dealt with symbols all the time, his photographic memory categorizing them all appropriately. Witch symbols, ancient summoning symbols, Devil's traps, Reaper's traps, Angel sigils, even symbols that could help dispel evil spirits. He couldn't place it, but he had seen it before somewhere.

And if he'd seen it before, that meant that it had to be something to do with the supernatural. And if it had something to do with the supernatural, then that meant that whatever was standing in front of him with a murderous look on it's face wasn't human.

“Yata-san?! Is that you?!”

Fushimi flinched at the grating, annoying voice of the woman. She slipped past him and flung her arms around the other male, who sheepishly returned the gesture. “You've come to see me! I knew you'd be visiting soon!”

“Ah, I heard about your brother and wanted to check and see if you were okay and if there was anything I could do!” Fushimi counted too many 'and's in his sentence. What a moron. “Who's the asshole?”

“Oh, he's..” Her voice was hesitant, which was immediately suspicious. Either she had something to hide from the redhead or she had something to hide from Fushimi. “He's... He's a friend of a friend of a friend, and he's going to help me with the situation my brother's gotten himself into.”

Why was she being so vague? If this 'Yata' knew that something was happening with her brother, surely he knew specifics. So they were both either stupid or... No, just stupid.

“O-Oh!” Yata cleared his throat, looking back at him awkwardly. “So... You know about it, huh?”

What an imbecile. “If you're talking about the possible shapeshifter, yes,” he replied blandly. “And if I had to guess, you know as well. So you're either a well educated human or something else..”

The woman tensed and Yata's eyes widened as the sudden realization hit him, jerking his head quickly to look at the woman. “Y-You called a hunter?!”

So his theory had been correct.

“What was I supposed to do?!” she cried again, the back of her hand going up to cover her forehead. Seriously? How idiotically dramatic could she get? “My poor baby brother could get in trouble, I had to do something to stop that from happening!”

“If I may interrupt,” Fushimi said dryly, tilting his head. “You're in consort with supernatural creatures and you failed to mention this? Or report it?”

She froze again, but Yata jumped to her defense. Quite literally. He placed himself in front of her, between her and Fushimi. “Hey, back off!” he barked. “ _Hunters_ don't need to get involved, we can handle this just fine!” He bared his canines at Fushimi, acting purely on instinct as far as Fushimi could tell.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, a silver infused knife slipping into his hand from up his sleeve. “I don't think that's true. It's my job to exterminate such creatures, like shapeshifters and whatever _you_ are..” Yata's eyes shot down to his hand when it started moving to throw the knife, yanking the woman out of the way and rolling to the side. She landed much less gracefully on the ground, scrambling up and back to the safety of her apartment with an exclamation of fear.

Whatever Yata was, he had sharp instincts and was fast. No matter. Fushimi was an experienced hunter, he'd most likely dealt with whatever Yata was. Almost everything hated silver, so he could work with that.

It wasn't his first time entering a fight not knowing exactly what he was up against.

Another knife disappeared from his hand, throwing it in Yata's direction. Yata dodged left as quickly as he had the first time, lurching forward with a snarl. Fushimi was ready and quickly drew his sword. No one was allowed to draw it without permission first, but Fushimi saw this as an 'emergency' for those rare times they were allowed leniency, so he didn't think twice about it. He brought it in front of him protectively, the silver infused blade hopefully warding off whatever Yata was.

It seemed to do the trick, because the creature narrowed its eyes and suddenly flipped back at a distance when he got too close. "What, can't fight up close?" he growled, circling around him slowly with measured movements. Its eyes were glued to him, the glinting gold and dilated pupils making it look even more predatory.

Fushimi wasn't bothered by the gaze, he'd been under it many times before by many different things, and he knew it wouldn't be the last time. "Afraid of a little silver?"

The creature didn't respond like he thought it would, which was honestly a little disappointing. No matter. He rushed forward, his steps quick and precise as he thrust his sword forward. Yata dodged left and threw out his leg to kick Fushimi, but Fushimi was already rolling out of the way and landing in a crouch, throwing two more knives at him. Yata yanked a piece of rusted pipe from the dilapidated building's wall, swinging it like a bat and hitting the two knives away like they were baseballs.

Fushimi stood up slowly, brushing off dirt from his uniform pants. "If you couldn't recognize me as soon as you saw me, I wonder just how much you know about our organization," he commented idly. If he could use Yata's temper to get information out of him before he perished, it might come in handy.

Yata couldn't hold back what sounded like an infuriated, inhuman growl that sent shivers up Fushimi's spine. He was once again grimly reminded of his mortality as a simple human, and was immediately irritated with himself because of it. "Oh, I know about your stupid _organization_ ," the creature spat, disgust and rage dripping from every word. "You hunt what you don't understand, claiming to protect the citizens while slaughtering innocent creatures just because we're different and not human! You should be going after the ones that are total dicks-!"

"I'm sorry," Fushimi drawled, picking at the end of his knife nonchalantly. The creature bristled indignantly at the interruption and his casual posture, like he wasn't in the middle of a fight. Fushimi looked back up from his blade with a dangerous smile, tilting his head to the side. "But I don't expect monsters to be filling out personality quizzes." He tossed another knife, aiming right for the creature's head. Yata dodged and leapt at him with an enraged howl- was it just a trick of the light or were his incisors sharper than before? Fushimi smoothly sidestepped, his saber slashing at Yata's torso-

Or, where it was supposed to be.

Yata was suddenly right in front of him, going for his throat. Could he teleport? Was he just _that_ fast? Fushimi barely had time to jerk back, his hand coming up defensively to intercept Yata's sharp teeth. They sank into his palm and part of his pinky like razors, missing the knife in his hand by centimeters. Damn. If he'd burned his mouth up, it might have been worth it.

Fushimi gasped in pain when Yata bit down harder, bringing his other hand with the sword up to slash at him. Only then did Yata let go, jumping back to gain some distance between them before the hit could land. Fushimi looked at his hand to assess the damage- he probably didn't need stitches, but damn did it hurt. He was also bleeding a lot. At least it wasn't his dominant hand, that would have been even more of a pain. He looked back up at Yata just in time to see him lick his blood from his stained, grinning lips. "Where's all that cocky talk now?" he asked mockingly.

Fushimi narrowed his eyes at him. What a rookie move, letting the thing get so close to him. But he'd had worse; this was, quite literally, just a scratch to him. He let the blood drip to the floor, deciding that now was obviously not the time to deal with it even though _ew_ , what kind of germs did that thing have in its mouth how disgusting. Fushimi watched as the creature circled him again, looking for any weak spots that he might have. He relaxed his posture, following him with his eyes. "Perhaps you shouldn't be as cocky as you are.." He swung his blade out, feigning a slash. Yata dodged left, again. How predictable. Fushimi was ready this time, two knives flying from his hand towards the creature.

With a wet 'thunk', one of the blades sunk into Yata's bicep. He let out a pained growl, stumbling to the ground and holding onto his injured arm. Fushimi watched the blood flow out onto the white t-shirt and tensed.

His silver and steel blade wasn't burning it.

Sure, the thing definitely wasn't human, but silver wasn't hurting it at all. It looked like a normal stab wound, bled like one, hurt like one it seemed.

Just what the hell was this thing?

Fushimi didn't stop to ponder it- he couldn't have the luxury of hesitance. He'd think about it later, once the thing was dead. All he needed to know was that it wasn't human, and that was enough in his opinion. He rushed forward, his sword drawn back as he looked down at the smaller male. Yata's eyes met his just as he brought the blade down, widening with fear and terror as his mouth dropped open to beg or scream-

A sword suddenly struck his, stopping the movement a mere foot away from Yata's neck. Fushimi jerked back, looking over to see who had interfered and scowled when he saw who it was.

"I don't believe this was part of your mission, Fushimi," Awashima said sharply, pulling her sword away. "Stand down."

Fushimi clicked his tongue, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the fight and the anger of being interrupted from his killing blow. "Awashima-san, it's protocol to exterminate supernatural creatures-"

"It's _protocol_ to report your findings in before acting, Fushimi," she replied, narrowing her eyes down at Yata. The teenager paled, scrambling up and hissing as he yanked the knife out of his arm and threw it to the ground. "Get out of here if you know what's good for you.."

Awashima was letting this thing go? "Awashima-san," he spoke up in irritation, wanting to ask her just what the hell she was doing letting a creature go like that, before he was interrupted once again.

"Put away your sword and report to the captain immediately," she ordered, her voice telling him that she meant business and to do as she said. He clicked his tongue, looking over at Yata- well, where he once stood. The only evidence that he'd even been there was Fushimi's throbbing hand and the blood on the ground. He saw the woman in her doorway, clutching her phone and watching with wide eyes. At least she was silent. He slowly slid his sword back into the scabbard, narrowing his eyes at her as he contemplated just _why_ she would let that thing go. Surely she didn't need the captain to authorize a little kill like this one- that was why he had Awashima, to deal with the smaller things that he couldn't be bothered with. At least, that's how Fushimi saw it, anyway. He and Awashima did the mundane things while Munakata sat in his office playing with puzzles, not a care in the world. He apparently cared about this, though, since Awashima was sending Fushimi scurrying back to him with his tail between his legs.

Just what the hell was going on here?

 

* * *

 

"Awashima-kun tells me that you caught a little trouble during your mission, Fushimi-kun..."

Fushimi resisted the urge to scoff at the amused tone, but couldn't help rolling his eyes. He stood by the door, his hands behind his back as he stared at Munakata. The older male was working on a puzzle, what else, picking up a piece delicately with his long and slender fingers. He held it up in front of him, looking at it- no, _through_ it. He was actually staring intently at Fushimi, he realized belatedly. "What happened?"

"If Awashima-san told you there was a problem, surely she told you what it was," he couldn't help but say, frowning at him in irritation.

"Ah, she did. Very observant," he praised. Fushimi felt one of his eyebrows twitch. A moron could guess that she'd done as much, it wasn't anything special. "However, there were events that unfolded before she arrived. I would like to know what prompted you to attack, Fushimi-kun. You're not one to normally act without thinking.." He finally set the puzzle piece down, locking it in place beside another one.

"Are you implying that I wasn't thinking?" Fushimi asked, getting even more annoyed.

"Of course not," Munakata said pleasantly, his expression not at all changing at the accusation. "I merely assumed that you wouldn't simply jump into a fight. Am I correct?"

How sneaky of him, goading him into explaining like that. "I didn't just jump into a fight," he said, a little defensively. "The woman was consorting with a supernatural creature."

"How did you know he wasn't human?" Munakata asked easily, looking back down at his puzzle and moving another piece with confidence.

Fushimi felt like he was being patronized. He didn't like the feeling at all. "It knew about hunters," he sighed out through gritted teeth. "And I based my suspicions on how it reacted. It was almost like an animal, with how it bared it's fangs and presented itself. But it didn't react to silver..."

Munakata looked up at him, making Fushimi's chest tighten a little from _something_ when the captain looked intrigued by the knowledge. "Oh?" he asked, tilting his head. "How interesting.."

Fushimi clenched his fist, the dry blood cracking from the movement. He hadn't had a chance to patch it up, though no one had noticed it yet. "Do you know what that thing is, sir?" The way Munakata was suddenly deep in thought sure made it seem like he did.

Munakata blinked and smiled at him easily. "You were right to assume that he wasn't human. Your instincts are rather sharp," he commented idly. The way he said it put Fushimi on edge, though. He felt like he was a science experiment under a microscope to be observed by the man in front of him. "What are your instincts telling you now? What do you think that creature was?"

Fushimi almost replied sarcastically, but he paused to actually think about it. Yata had moved inhumanly fast, so fast that he'd managed to pull one over on Fushimi. He wasn't immune to stab wounds but was definitely immune to silver. He had sharpened teeth, almost animalistic instincts..

"I'm not sure," he finally said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

Munakata didn't look at him with amused disappointment like he half-expected, however. He just looked at him with a gentle smile. "I'm sure you can figure it out, Fushimi-kun. For now, perhaps you should clean your wounds and rest up. Surely the battle has tired you out."

"What about the mission I was assigned, Captain?" Fushimi didn't particularly care, but work was work and he hated leaving unsolved things on his desk overnight. He was also a little peeved that Munakata had noticed that he was injured- not that he expected any less.

"I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow, when you're well rested," he said pleasantly. "Your hand needs time to heal and you can't work if you're tired. I'm sure the case will still be waiting for you when morning comes."

Fushimi sighed irritably. He didn't need this man's concern... But if he knew anything about his boss, he wouldn't let Fushimi just go back to work. It was getting a little late, anyway... And he could always try to locate the shapeshifter on his personal laptop in his dorm. "Fine," he muttered finally, turning to leave. He ignored Munakata's pleasant goodbyes, heading down the hall towards the bathhouse. He could use a nice soak after all of this, and there most likely wouldn't be anyone there at this time.

It wasn't until he was in his dorm, freshly bathed and hand bandaged, that he realized that Munakata hadn't answered his question when he'd asked what that Yata creature was.


	2. Like Highways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yata comes home with a thorn (throwing knife) in his side, Mikoto and Awashima are not amused but Kusanagi is, and Fushimi gets a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited chapter that is definitely not my best but at least it's not horrible I guess.
> 
> Okay, the time period is a little wonky here, so lemme explain. Even though the last chapter ended with Munakata and Fushimi's conversation late that night, the opening scene happens right after the fight. The following scene with Kusanagi and Awashima is later that day, pretty much around the time Munakata and Fushimi are talking. Final scene is early next morning, like really early. Talking 1-5 in the morning. So uh. Yep.

The sound of labored breathing filled the darkened alleyway, a body slumping against the brick wall of a building. The air was thick with heat and smelled rancid from garbage and street trash, with a hint of blood. No one from the bustling crowd paid attention, didn't look in the cracks of the buildings, didn't smell the blood or filth. They were human, with dull senses and even duller instincts. It made the creature leaning against the wall for support want to scoff, if it wasn't too busy trying to keep its own blood in its body.

Yata held his arm tightly, feeling blood slip between his fingers and down his bicep. He snarled quietly, pulling his hand away and pausing to look at his wound once he felt safe enough. Blood was still lazily running from the stab wound, but he didn't think it was anything fatal or he would probably be dead already. But he guessed that he should patch it up soon, before infection set in. He narrowed his eyes at the crowd of humans just at the entrance of the alley, all bustling around trying to get to their destinations.

A big melting pot of prey, just waiting to be hunted.

Yata wouldn't ever think of them that way, but. That's what they were. They flocked together in these cities, thinking that no predator could reach them. They didn't even know of the predators that were living in the cracks, wolves in sheep's skin waiting for the perfect opportunity to go for the throat. Monsters and legends, waiting to pick out the perfect prey from where they had gathered in places like this. What predator would turn away from a plentiful supply of weak prey, like these humans?

Yata's nose twitched as he looked down at the knife he'd picked up before he left. It had his blood on it, yes, but it also had the scent of the hunter on it. He brought it up to his nose to get a closer smell, narrowing his eyes as he committed it to memory. The hunter smelled of many things- salt, silver, things that a hunter usually smelled like. But everyone had a unique scent. There it was: honey, musk, and a hint of mixed herbs. It would have been an appealing scent if he hadn't attacked Yata and pissed him off.

"Got your scent," he chuckled to himself, breaking the silence in the alley.

He tucked the knife into his pocket carefully, knowing that if he slipped it could stab him again. He narrowed his eyes at the entrance to the alley, looking out at the crowded streets. There was no way he would be able to just slip out and 'blend in' with the humans now. Not with blood staining his shirt like this. Humans were nosy creatures, they'd surely call someone if they saw him. The police were tricky to deal with, and if they were in league with that stupid hunting organization, then he may not be able to escape a second time if they were foolish enough to pursue him.

As he slipped through the alleys and slowly made his way back home, Yata couldn't help but think of the encounter. If that blonde bitch hadn't shown up.. He growled lowly at what could have happened. Not many people could get the upper hand over him, especially not a human. Anger and embarrassment flowed through him, and he tugged his beanie down lower to hide the red tips of his ears. There wasn't even anyone around, it was just a habit he'd picked up.

Just who the hell was that guy? And why had he never seen him before? Yata had been to a few meetings at Scepter 4. They were boring as hell and Kusanagi usually did the talking, but those damn Blues were usually in and out a lot and he remembered each and every one of them, their scents permanently etched into his mind. If this guy that he'd fought against was powerful enough to subdue Yata- and even thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth- than he had to be important, right? Surely he had seen him before and just forgot?

No, there was no way. Yata wouldn't forget him, he left quite an impression by attacking someone they supposedly had a truce with.

Yata brightened up when he saw the bar, as he always did. Kusanagi knew the finer workings of the hunting organization better than he did, so maybe he would be able to shine a light on the subject.

When he opened the door, he was thankful that there wasn't many others there. Just Kusanagi and Anna, that he could tell. That was good, he didn't want any of the stupid bloodsuckers to be all over him with a wound like this. He sniffed the air to be sure, smiling when he caught the scent of Mikoto. Hopefully he would be awake soon, that way Yata could tell him all about how he'd kicked ass.

"Yo!" he greeted, still holding his arm close.

Kusanagi smiled at him and Anna nodded. "Hello, Yata-chan." Kusanagi frowned when he saw the blood, then sighed. "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.. Was it the shapeshifter?"

Yata shook his head, frowning in irritation. Right, the shapeshifter. He'd been so caught up in his feud with the hunter that he'd forgotten why he'd been there in the first place. Damn monsters, wiggling their way into Homra territory... "Ah, no. Not really," he muttered, grinning sheepishly. He was still irritated, even more so now that he had been distracted from his original target. "Something else happened."

Kusanagi's eyebrows twitched slightly in curiosity. "Oh? Something else is here and causing trouble?"

"Why don't you let the kid get patched up before you start grilling him, Izumo?"

Yata perked up when he heard Mikoto's voice. The redhead was leisurely making his way down the stairs, his eyes lazily roaming over them all before landing on Yata. More specifically, his arm. "Mikoto-san!"

Mikoto grunted quietly and plopped down on the couch, taking out a cigarette and chewing on the end of it without lighting it. Kusanagi watching him, tilting his head just slightly before turning to Anna with an encouraging smile. "Why don't you try it, Anna?"

Anna blinked and looked thoughtful, turning to Yata. Yata smiled brightly and nodded. "It's fine! I wanna see how you're doing, I know you can fix me up!"

Anna nodded slowly and slipped off the bar stool, heading towards the kitchen. She was only gone for a moment, coming back with a towel and a bowl of water. Yata sat on the floor so she would be able to reach, taking off his shirt and looking up at her with a small smile. Anna was soothed by the encouragement, gripping the bowl a little tighter. "Relax, Misaki. Visualize the wound closing up."

Yata nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders slump. "Ready."

Anna turned her focused eyes to the wound, then started pouring the water slowly and steadily over Yata's skin. The blood was washed away and revealed a deep cut, which probably hurt more than Yata's discomforted face was letting on. She closed her eyes, standing still and letting the water continue to pour over his wounded flesh as she started to chant:

"Nunc melior plaga curare eius modi  
Close usque nunc, prohibere cruenti  
Beatus ergo erit primum sentiens."

Yata kept his eyes closed as the pain started ebbing away, being replaced by an itch and just a small ache. When the water stopped pouring, he opened his eyes and looked down at his arm. There wasn't a trace of any blood or even a scar. It was completely gone. The only evidence that there had been anything at all was the small ache of his muscles. He wiggled his arm and flexed slightly before deeming it completely healed, looking at her and grinning. "You did it, Anna! I don't feel a thing, that's amazing!"

"Good job, Anna," Kusanagi added from where he stood behind the bar, smiling at her with pride. He was also happy that she'd at least brought a towel to clean up with, _some_  witches didn't have the manners that she did.

Anna flushed happily and gave him a small smile, setting the bowl down and grabbing the towel. She started wiping Yata's wet arm dry, but he covered her small hand with his.

"I got it, it's the least I can do since you healed me up!" Yata wiped himself off, then cleaned up the blood and water that had dripped onto the floor. He pat Anna's head as thanks, turning to look at Mikoto. "That was amazing! You're such a good teacher, Mikoto-san!"

Mikoto grunted and Anna went to sit by him, looking up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. At least, to Yata. Mikoto must have understood, since he also reached out to pat her head. Her expression brightened tremendously. "Good job."

Yata set the bowl on the bar, putting his shirt back on and tossing the towel over his shoulder. He sat at a stool, leaning against the counter and looking at Kusanagi as the blond addressed him. "Mind telling us how that happened, Yata-chan?"

Yata's expressions darkened. "Well, I was looking into that shapeshifter thing you told me about, but then this hunter was there and he was a total dick and just started attacking me for no reason! I didn't even do anything this time, I swear!"

"A hunter, huh?" Kusanagi hummed thoughtfully, his eyes glinting with curiosity behind his sunglasses. "Surely they weren't of Scepter 4..." But a rogue hunter in Japan was unlikely, this wasn't America.

"I didn't recognize him for it at first, but yeah, it was those damn Blues!" Yata banged his fist on the counter, receiving a warning look from the bartender. The creature winced. "Sorry, Kusanagi-san... But seriously! It pissed me off, still does! I thought we had a truce with them!!"

"We do.." Kusanagi glanced over at Mikoto, sharing a look with him before turning back to Yata. "Did you recognize his scent?"

"That's the crazy thing," Yata started. "I didn't. He was completely new to me, and you've had me in every inch of that damn place. I wouldn't have missed him, either. If he was within two miles of that place, I would have caught his scent."

Kusanagi looked at him in amusement. "Not every inch. But I see where you're coming from." One of the reasons Kusanagi took Yata to those meetings was so Yata could scope out the place and help him keep tabs on them, especially with how well his nose was. "They could have gotten a new member, but being in the field so soon after admittance? Munakata Reisi is eccentric at times, but he's no fool.." Mikoto snorted, but Kusanagi ignored him easily. "Perhaps he's been keeping this one up his sleeve.."

"You think he's gonna attack or something?!" Yata cried, his mind rushing with possibilities. Why else would that pompous Blue hide away that hunter? "No way! Homra won't go down so easily!"

"I'm not saying that, Yata-chan," Kusanagi soothed, frowning thoughtfully. "But it is bothersome.. I haven't heard of any newcomers, and I keep a sharp eye on that place. And you didn't recognize his scent.." At Yata's guilty look, he smiled and rested a hand on Yata's shoulder. "I'm not blaming you, Yata-chan. It's not your fault. If he wasn't there, how could you have his scent?"

Yata's ears and nose twitched as he smiled. "Oh, I got something!" He reached into his pocket carefully, pulling out a knife and putting the towel on the counter so he could set the knife on it without getting anything on Kusanagi's beloved bar. The blood was dried and smeared along the blade, probably because he'd had it in his pocket. "He threw this at me, it's silver. The hilt smells like iron, though, so don't touch that part, Kusanagi-san."

Kusanagi nodded, reaching out and grabbing the knife while using the towel like an oven mitt. "I've never seen this before," he murmured to himself, though Yata's sharp ears caught it. "I thought they only used swords and guns.."

"This guy had a sword!" Yata shouted, scowling at the thought. "And he had a gun, but he didn't use it.."

Kusanagi nodded, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, then looked back at Yata. "Why don't you take Anna upstairs and help her study? You know a little bit about spells, yeah?"

Yata frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Well, not as much as-"

"Misaki," Anna said quietly to get his attention. It worked. She gave him a small smile. She knew Kusanagi needed to talk to Mikoto in private, so she stood up and walked over to him, grabbing his hand. "You know that fire spell, right? Can you teach it to me?"

Yata smiled slightly for her and nodded. "Uh, yeah! I can teach you, I guess."

"Don't burn anything," Kusanagi chuckled, waving his free hand dismissively as Yata got up.

Mikoto got up suddenly, so Anna and Yata paused in their steps. Yata looked up at Mikoto nervously as he approached, expecting a reprimand. He hadn't gotten the correct information, he didn't find the shapeshifter, and he'd caused trouble with Scepter 4...

So he was surprised when Mikoto ruffled his hair, carding his fingers through the soft orange strands. Yata leaned into it instinctively, a smile on his face as his eyes closed. It was always very calming and relaxing with Mikoto, especially when he was petting him like this. He looked up at him, his eyes widening and chest inflating with pride when Mikoto gave him a small smile. "Good job today, Yata."

"Thank you, Mikoto-san!" Feeling infinitely better, he followed Anna up the stairs after Mikoto pulled his hand away.

"What an interesting relationship you two have," Kusanagi noted, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He smirked at Mikoto, his sunglasses glinting in the low light of the bar and hiding the emotion in his eyes. "So you couldn't feel him in danger at all?"

"If his life was threatened, I would have protected him," Mikoto grunted, sitting at the bar and finally lighting his cigarette with a snap of his fingers. "And I don't appreciate your tone, Izumo.."

Kusanagi held his hands up in false surrender, a disarming smile on his face that didn't fool Mikoto at all. "There's no harm here. You know I've always been curious about the bond between you two.." He leaned closer. "He's a rare one, that boy. It's fascinating that silver has no effect on him, or iron. But he is vulnerable to knife wounds, it seems. Maybe he's not as powerful as I thought."

Mikoto grunted again, narrowing his eyes at him. "Keep your curiosity about Yata to yourself. It's none of your business. What _is_  your business is finding out who did this to him, and who breached the contract. Got it?"

Kusanagi chuckled, adjusting his scarf. "I was simply making observations, no need to be so defensive of your pet." Mikoto gave him a hard stare and he held his hands up again. "Ah, sorry. I mean _familiar_. I know he's not a pet, he's barely domesticated at all," he teased.

"Didn't I give you something to do?"

Kusanagi stepped out from behind the bar. "Of course, My King," he murmured, amusement lacing his words as he walked towards the door. "I'll find out who hurt Yata-chan and discuss the treaty, just relax." He held up the knife, still using the towel so he wouldn't touch the iron, and smirked. "After all, we have proof that they have betrayed the contract, which is grounds for immediate dismissal. Perhaps the situation isn't all bad.."

 

* * *

 

Awashima sighed heavily as she opened her door, locking it once it was shut. She took off her shoes and headed towards her bedroom. It had been a rough day of talking with Munakata and working on cleaning up the mess that Fushimi had made. Granted, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know of the treaty, for reasons Awashima didn't know. Fushimi didn't know of Homra, and didn't know how to identify Homra members by the talismans around their necks. It seemed to be an error on Munakata's part for not telling him once he had joined them, but.. Munakata didn't make errors like that. And he didn't seem bothered at all that the treaty was broken on his own part. How could this benefit him at all?

It made Awashima's head hurt. Munakata was impossible to figure out, and there was no way to know what he was planning unless he outright told her. But she trusted him. She knew her leader would make smart, perfectly weighed decisions for the best outcome. If he put the treaty at risk, there had to be a good reason for it.

She sighed to herself, taking her hair down from her clip and letting it fall to her shoulders in small waves. She pushed open the door to her room, looking down at her belt so she could unhook the scabbard of her sword. She didn't notice the presence in her room until its voice snaked through the air.

"We have a problem."

Awashima drew her sword immediately, her brows drawn together in surprise and seriousness. Her posture was defensive, her sword pointed at the neck of whatever was in her room. She sighed and lowered her sword, sheathing it back into the scabbard and glaring at the entity in her room. "What do you want, Kusanagi Izumo?"

Kusanagi was leaning against her wall, one foot flat against the wall while his hands were in his pockets. He was staring directly at her, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her. "Mikoto isn't very happy about Yata-chan being attacked by one of your members," he commented idly, like he was talking about the weather instead of confronting someone. "And I have to say, I'm not too happy about it either. If you can't abide by deals, why make them..?" His eyes bore into hers through the sunglasses.

Awashima sighed, leaning her sword against her dresser and crossing her arms over her chest. "Fushimi was on a separate mission when Yata Misaki showed up. Fushimi was not aware that he was a member of Homra.."

"Odd, considering he has the talisman of Suoh Mikoto around his neck." Kusanagi reached under his scarf and shirt and pulling the talisman out so Awashima could see it. The dark red, almost black flames were the same that Yata wore. They all wore the talismans, it identified them as Homra and also protected them from danger. Mikoto's magic flowed through it and would protect them, should they need it. He tucked it back into his shirt, tilting his head. "He wears it visibly all the time. So this _Fushimi_  should have seen it and known to stay away." As he spoke it, the name sounded familiar. He would have to look into it, maybe he had heard of this person before.

Awashima hesitated. "He.. He did not know about Homra."

Kusanagi raised an eyebrow at her. "A hunter, from your organization that has a treaty with us, wasn't aware of Homra? Or the treaty, I assume?" At Awashima's nod, he sighed pinched the bridge of his nose. "I take back what I said, Munakata Reisi _is_  a fool."

Anger swelled in Awashima's chest and she clenched her fists. "Don't you dare say that about Captain. He knows what he is doing."

"If he acts like a fool, then it is no insult and only an observation of character," Kusanagi said sharply, narrowing his eyes at her before smiling. "I'm sorry, that was rude. But so was breaching the contract. If Munakata Reisi doesn't tell his clansmen about our treaty, and then they break the treaty, is it not his fault? Does that not void the treaty when one of his own attacks one of our own?" He stepped away from the wall and moved closer to her slowly. She didn't step away, letting him get closer and staring at him with a defiant frown. "If you're going to make excuses, at least _try_  harder, Seri-chan. I know you're smarter than this, and it insults me that you would think I'm not smart enough to see through it. I know he has something planned, I know that this 'Fushimi' person isn't new and wasn't told on purpose about Homra so that this would happen, but what I don't know is _why_."

"It is not our job to inform you of our plans-"

"So there are plans?" Kusanagi asked, grinning slowly at her.

Awashima narrowed her eyes. "Are you here to just talk in circles and insult the Captain?"

"I'll get to the point then," he chuckled in amusement, before turning serious. "Mikoto wants a meeting with Munakata-san to discuss the standing of the treaty. He also wanted to know who hurt Yata-chan.." He took out the knife, holding it up with the towel. It no longer had any blood on it. "So, Fushimi is his name?"

Awashima blinked in shock when she recognized the knife. She hadn't notice Yata take it. "He is not to hurt Fushimi-"

Kusanagi laughed sarcastically. "Ah, of course not. That would go against the treaty, would it not?"

Awashima clenched her fists again, tensing at his tone. She knew Homra was all about revenge. An eye for an eye should be their motto, instead of that ridiculous 'no blood, no bone, no ash'. "I can get you a meeting with Captain tomorrow, but until then, no harm is to come to the hunter Fushimi. It is not his fault that he did not know-"

"You're right, it's your Captain's fault," Kusanagi said. "But I will agree. Of course, it will have to be discussed in further detail tomorrow what to do with Fushimi, as well as the now nullified treaty." Kusanagi looked at her in amusement. "I keep my end of the bargain, so does Mikoto. That apparently means nothing to Munakata Reisi."

Awashima narrowed her eyes. "You've made your point, and you got what you came for, so please leave now."

Kusanagi raised an eyebrow at her. "Ah, I guess you didn't miss me as much as I thought you did," he teased. "I have to say, it was nice to make a deal with you again, for old time's sake.."

"It's not a deal," she said sharply. "You're simply making an appointment with my boss."

"It sounded like a deal to me," Kusanagi shrugged. "But whatever you want to call this, it doesn't make a difference. In the end, you'll still get the same result. You'll still go to hell.."

Awashima glared at him coldly, knowing that he was no longer talking about the appointment. "Must you always bring that up?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He leaned closer, his sunglasses lowered on the bridge of his nose so his brown eyes were visible. He smirked and they flickered completely red. "I like being reminded that your soul belongs to me, Seri-chan.." His eyes went back to normal as he leaned back. "I hope to see you at the meeting tomorrow. Maybe we'll meet this Fushimi person while we're there. Yata-chan is very good at recognizing scents, you know.."

Awashima watched him throw the knife down to the ground, stepping back slightly in case the sharp edge hurt her. When she looked back up to reply, he was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Fushimi sat on the top bunk in his dorm, his knees pulled up to his chest and his laptop open and forgotten to his left. He was in soft cotton pajama pants and a black long sleeved shirt, knives still hidden all over him even though he was in the 'safety' of his room. He still had his glasses on as he looked at the darkened white walls of his room, picking idly at the hem of his clothes and the loose bandage on his hand.

Now that he was sitting in the dark and thinking about it- not that he wanted to think about it, he didn't care it just irritated him that he didn't know- he was beginning to acknowledge that maybe he had been wrong about his earlier assumption of what Yata was. A lot of supernatural creatures weren't affected by silver (or iron), and he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions just because it wasn't common for something like that to happen. He had searched his laptop for a few answers, but had ultimately not come up with a lot. His thoughts were caught up in the mystery, going through the list alphabetically and ruling out every single one of them.

Vampire? Probably not. That Yata creature didn't flash his fangs- well, he had, but the wrong set of fangs to be a vampire. His fangs had been at a sharp 90° angle, and they were in the normal place of canines. They hadn't been jagged and spread everywhere along his gums.

Vetala? Again, not the right type of fangs. Silver was lethal to the creatures. And vetala liked to hunt in packs. There was too many variables that didn't add up with that one.

Werewolf? Now there was a thought.. The fangs looked a little similar. But no, it wasn't a werewolf. The silver would have harmed it.

Fushimi sighed heavily and furrowed his brows. Everything he'd thought of, everything he'd faced, everything he'd ever read or researched- it just didn't seem to fit. He couldn't place what exactly Yata was and it irritated him. He didn't know why, but he just had the feeling that Yata wasn't normal even by supernatural creature standards, making him feel intrigued and annoyed that he was intrigued.

And there was the symbol. He'd looked it up, but couldn't find anything online about it. He knew it was familiar, he knew he'd seen it before, but he also couldn't place it. Which was odd. He had a photographic memory and never forgot anything. Even if it was useless, even if he wanted to, he never discarded information. It always stuck with him. So why, now, was he faced with this challenge?

Fushimi uncurled his legs, hanging them over the edge of the bed and stretching out. Through the closed blinds, moonlight shone through the slits and glinted off of something in his barely opened closet. He narrowed his eyes, hopping down soundlessly and approaching the door, figuring that it was a rouge weapon lying around that he'd forgotten to retrieve. He'd been missing a knife, anyway, so maybe that was where it had gotten off to. He pulled it open and looked down, picking up what it was. A loose, silver buckle was attached to a strap that held a book shut. The book itself was old, cracking leather, the edges tattered and the pages stained. The spine looked like it was going to fall off at any minute. It was obvious that it hadn't been taken care of properly.

A shiver trailed up his spine just by touching the damn thing. He'd forgotten that he'd thrown it into his closet, never planning on looking at it again. It was his father's journal, containing information on every known creature to ever walk the earth. His father had spent many long nights writing in this thing, hunched over a desk and drunk out of his mind.

Fushimi paused. If there was any way to figure out what Yata was, it would probably be found in this book. As much as he loathed to admit it, his father was a genius and knew everything there was to know about the supernatural world. That was about as far as his qualities went, and Fushimi couldn't even muster up all the niceness in himself to compliment it and call it a 'good' quality of his father's. The man had been absolutely horrible, even more than the monsters they had encountered, and he didn't want to consult the old notebook for help.

Still, if there was any way he was going to figure out what Yata was, it would be with this journal.

With narrowed eyes and a voice in his head echoing how useless he was to need his daddy's help, he went to his desk and clicked on the lamp. Light flooded in the room and temporarily blinded him, but he recovered quickly enough and sat on the computer chair. He opened the book after fighting with the rusted buckle, opening the pages and beginning to skim quickly through the written drunken rants, the useful and useless information, the ideas and recounting of old times they had shared. He sneered at a particular story, turning the page quickly and ignoring the 'had fun bonding with my monkey tonight!!'

The minutes turned into hours. It wasn't a small journal by any means, and there were tons of pages to sift through. Most of it, if not all, he already knew- though he found out a new way to get rid of an okami and a few more weapons that he'd probably never have the chance to use, such as 'Death's scythe', 'angel blades', and something called the 'First Blade'. He was just about to give up, stifling a yawn and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He turned the page again, and his fingers froze when he realized what he was looking at.

The symbol that had been around Yata's neck was drawn on the top half of the page perfectly, words wrapped around it and jumbling together in an unreadable mess. He tried to find something, anything, that would tell him why it was in the journal or what it was, but he could only make out 'monkey', 'dead', 'Homra', and 'witch'.

Witch... It still didn't make much sense. Fushimi knew what a witch was, had killed many, but Yata was no witch. Even though witches didn't react to silver, they were still more of a handful than Yata was. He was more animalistic, not in any way giving off the vibe of a powerful or trained witch. If he had been a witch, even a new one, Fushimi would have been able to tell.

He stared at the page until his eyes burned and his head pounded, his mind racing as he struggled to connect the dots. This didn't help at all, it just caused him more problems and left more questions unanswered. He was starting to understand why he'd never read his father's stupid journal-

Wait, he knew where he'd seen the symbol before. He closed his eyes, nails digging into the leather of the book that he hadn't even realized he'd picked up. A necklace. Not the one Yata wore, but an identical one. The image in his mind was weak but vivid: Niki's fingers clasped around the mysterious dark material of the symbol, tucking it into his pocket. Another one, this time being locked away in a safe when he was seven. The last one was of Niki throwing it in a fire when he was drunk and Fushimi was eight, laughing when the flames tinted a violent red, jumped out of the stone fireplace, and grew intimidatingly in response to touching the necklace- almost like it didn't want it destroyed..

When Fushimi opened his eyes again, his vision was blurred even though he could feel his glasses still on his face and his head hurt even more. He pressed his fingers to his temple, cursing quietly to himself and reaching into his desk drawer for a few painkillers.

Why hadn't he remembered that before? It stuck out now that he remembered; it was hard to forget anything that involves Niki and fire together..

Why did he even care? This Yata creature was connected to his father somehow, so what? All he wanted to know was what creature Yata was, and he hadn't even figured that out. Why did it matter that they had matching necklaces? He didn't care about anything having to do with Niki, let alone a stranger that had tried to kill him earlier..

But something told him that this was important. Something told him to dig deeper, to figure out what all this was about. He hated not knowing things anyway, and he was never one to ignore his instincts- even if they did seem stupid and illogical at times. It had saved his life many times before. He wasn't alive today and with the best hunting organization in the world by ignoring feelings like he was experiencing now..

Fushimi narrowed his eyes and looked down at the page again, trying to ignore the pain and exhaustion and the sound of suspiciously familiar laughter as he traced the ink with his index finger. He'd find out about this. Despite his tendency to ignore more work than necessary, he needed to know what this was and why it was bothering him. He needed to know why his dead father had a necklace that was now around the neck of an unknown creature.

At least he wasn't bored anymore, though that was barely any consolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote some of this while drunk, guess which part.
> 
> If Kusanagi seems to be acting odd, it's just for now. Kind of. He's a little different I guess? He's a demon, what do you expect. He's not evil but he's not gonna be the exact same... It's labeled as an au for a reason. Characterization isn't my strong point I guess.
> 
> Sorry it took so long, looking for a job sucks. Also, there's gonna be a lot more. First multi-chapter fic, go easy on me.
> 
> *shrug emoji*


	3. Meet and Greet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fushimi gets the shock of his life and so do you. (Had to break this chapter up into two because it got long.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I reached 100 kudos. Thank you guys so much!
> 
> So, it's been a long month or two, a lot has happened, some new friends have been made. It's been very stressful, but seeing all your positive messages have helped me through it. I spent a lot of time writing this and planning (not as much as I should, but I'm a perfectionist and I have to get it just perfect, this story is my baby).
> 
> I will be participating in a shipping week coming up soon (Kimiyoi week, for all you OnS fans), so writing this will take a step back in order to focus on writing seven different things and getting them ready for posting on the dates assigned. But I'm not abandoning this fic no matter what, don't worry. (I also have about 5 other outlines and stories in working I am suffering.)
> 
> As for people wondering about Porcelain, it's taking a further step back in order for me to focus on this story. I really jumped into it without a lot of planning, and I'm not sure where to go on with it I'll admit, so I'll be mostly planning and waiting on writing until I'm finished/close to being finished with this.
> 
> Anyway, you're not here to listen to me ramble. On with the story!

When Fushimi woke up, he was immediately aware of how stiff and cold he was. His arms were crossed on the hard wood of his desk, his neck bent awkwardly so his head could rest on them. He raised his head with a groan, his glasses slanted crookedly on his face and digging into his nose and cheek uncomfortably. His biceps were screaming at him, as were his back muscles and his head. He'd always gotten headaches, mostly from lack of food or sleep when he was busy and unable to attend to the needs of his body, but this one was particularly nasty- a combination of stress and something else that he couldn't identify but was not fun at all. The air conditioner must have been turned up all the way, because it was several degrees colder than normal. It made his stiff muscles ache even more.

When he looked down- after straightening his glasses so he could see properly- he was met with the same page he'd spent half the night staring at. Looking at the symbol and scribbles with the amount of unanswered questions he had made his head ache sharply, and he rubbed his temples with his thin fingers in an attempt to quell the pain. He _really_  didn't want to think about this at the moment, his head hurt too much to properly analyze things. A glance at the clock had him groaning again; it was too early to be up with how late he had stayed up. His shift started in thirty minutes, but for once he didn't want to report in. He'd never taken a personal day, he usually worked holidays, he even worked overtime 70% of the time. So for him to want to curl back up on the top bunk of his bed and sleep was both abnormal and annoying. He hated feeling like this, he knew that he wouldn't be useful if he wasn't in top shape, so he would have to power through and get it over with. Maybe have some breakfast to give him the energy.

Fushimi stood up, stretching his arms and his back to shake the soreness away. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily and not even bothering with styling it today. He was halfway through getting into his uniform after struggling with his stubborn knife harness when there were three knocks on his door, along with a professional, "Fushimi-san?"

Fushimi narrowed his eyes and went over to the door, opening it with his white shirt half-buttoned and his pants on neatly. Akiyama stood in front of his door, bowing deeply with his hair in his face as Fushimi finished buttoning his shirt. "What is it?" he huffed.

Akiyama stood back up straight. "The Captain requests your presence in Conference Room 1 for an important meeting as soon as you can, Fushimi-san."

Fushimi frowned, popping up the collar of his shirt. He didn't remember any meetings being scheduled for today, nevertheless one that he had to be present for. Usually Munakata dealt with business himself or Awashima handled it, he usually wasn't there unless it was with a meeting with the Prime Minister. Even then, it would be at their place and not at Scepter 4 Headquarters. If this was about yesterday-

"Fushimi-san? What happened to your hand?"

Fushimi looked down at his hand with a scowl. The edges of the bandage were worn and it probably needed to be changed today, but he didn't have time for it if this meeting was important. Usually when Munakata asked for him 'as soon as he can', it was very important business and needed immediate attention. "It's nothing," he huffed, squeezing his hand and feeling pain shoot up his arm from the bite mark. "Work related injury."

Akiyama's concerned expression didn't go away, but he didn't press the issue further. Fushimi liked that about him; he never insisted with useless conversations or trivial small talk. "Alright, Fushimi-san."

"While I'm in this stupid meeting, finish the quarterly reports and have everyone deposit theirs on my desk, I'll look over them later," Fushimi said distractedly as he pulled his gray vest on, buttoning it swiftly.

Akiyama nodded and bowed again, recognizing the dismissal without having to be told in simple terms. Another quality Fushimi liked about him. "Yes, sir."

Fushimi shut the door when Akiyama turned to leave, leaning against it as a tiny wave of dizziness hit him. It was probably the lack of food and the horrible sleep. He looked back down at his hand, palm up and fingers spread. He'd honestly forgotten about it, but now there was an ache spreading in his muscles and the joints of his fingers and wrist. Could it be infected? He hadn't bothered to properly sanitize and clean it besides his normal shower routine the night before.

Was the creature that bit him venomous?

He hadn't thought about that, and he cursed himself for the slip. Some creatures were known to multiply by biting and infecting humans, but Fushimi honestly didn't feel any different. It seemed like a normal wound, with normal aches, but he would have to keep an eye out for any symptoms. Like sensitivity to light, headaches (beyond his normal ones), and the urge to eat his coworkers.

He clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes, deciding to worry about it later. It's not like he could do anything if he was infected- besides get revenge- so he just let it settle in his mind for the moment. He had a meeting to get to, and boy was Munakata going to hear about it if it wasn't that important. He was skipping breakfast for this.

He grabbed his coat and boots, slipping them on before securing himself with a few more knives than there were already in his harness, his gun, and his sword. He locked his room as he left, just in case anyone was feeling curious about his things.

(He'd heard that Domyouji thought he slept upside down like a bat and wanted to investigate his theory. He didn't know whether to be annoyed at his stupidity and the vague insult or be impressed that the idiot knew enough about bats to know they slept like that, even though he considered it common knowledge.)

After a quick stop in the washroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth, Fushimi walked through the pristine halls of the huge building. Every corner was brightly lit, with pale walls and expensive floors and furniture. Fushimi thought it was a bit overkill (especially since there were sigils and traps painted on a lot of surfaces, ruining their clean appearance and fancy looks), but he wasn't about to fight with Munakata about his interior decorating choices. He had better things to do. He moved silently through the halls mostly by instinct, walking on the balls of his feet to decrease the noise of his boots. He navigated the tall, long halls with ease, arriving at Conference Room 1 within five minutes of leaving the washroom. He pushed open the door after knocking and being invited in, frowning irritably at his bosses.

Munakata sat at the head of a modest-sized conference table, Awashima standing by his side, both looking as prim and proper as always while Fushimi felt like absolute shit. He had a file perfectly placed in front of him on the table and his hands in his lap as he greeting Fushimi with a smile. "Good morning, Fushimi-kun."

"Captain," Fushimi nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Awashima-san." She nodded at his greeting, and he started to walk forward before he noticed something. At his feet, the red paint of a devil's trap had deteriorated and had broken- no, it looked like someone had intentionally slashed through it to make it obsolete. Fushimi narrowed his eyes, looking back up at them. "Someone should probably fix this before we have a security breach."

"You have sharp eyes," Munakata complimented. Fushimi still didn't know how to accept such easy compliments, so he just continued scowling. "I will have someone attend to that later. For now, please have a seat. Our guests should be arriving soon."

Fushimi approached the table slowly, sitting in the chair to Munakata's left and slouching over the table. He ignored Awashima's scolding look and rested his chin in his hand, glancing down at the file before looking back up at Munakata. "And who, exactly, are our guests?"

"We will be having a meeting with an... acquaintance to discuss a treaty that has been set into place previously," Munakata said, reaching into his pocket before Fushimi had the chance to ask more questions. He pulled out Fushimi's knife that Awashima had given to him, handing it back to its owner. "I believe you dropped this."

Fushimi's brows furrowed, taking the knife and examining it. It was one of his, but he didn't know when he'd lost it. Sure, he misplaced many, but he couldn't figure out how Munakata would have stumbled across one. "Where did you get this?"

"An acquaintance," Munakata smiled pleasantly, but Fushimi could tell that it was only for show.

"Right." He should be used to vague answers by now, having been here for two years now, but Munakata wouldn't go into detail unless he wanted to, certainly not because someone was pressing for them.

Munakata's smile turned more grim, which confused and very much unsettled Fushimi further. Munakata was never grim about anything. "It will be explained shortly, Fushimi-kun. However, I would advise that you try to keep a level head throughout this meeting."

Fushimi huffed and placed his finger on the top of the knife, the tip of the blade digging into the expensive, polished wood table as he spun it in a bored fashion. Sure, he was usually rude and blunt, and didn't bother hiding his irritation, but he knew when to be professional and when to behave, so he wasn't sure why Munakata was treating him like a disobedient child. "Of course. I'm not an idiot, Captain."

"Sir, our guests have arrived," Awashima said before Munakata had a chance to reply, looking up from her PDA. Munakata hummed and nodded, and Fushimi couldn't help but notice Awashima's lips pressing tightly together and her body tensing. At least she seemed as annoyed about this as he did, even though her face was expressionless. Her body language said it all: she'd rather be anywhere else but meeting with... whoever they were meeting with. It should have put him on edge, but he couldn't help but be a little smug that the teacher's pet was as unhappy about this as he felt. Small victories.

Fushimi's mind wandered while they waited in a tense silence for their guests to show up. He had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to be good, whatever it was, and that he should probably leave while he could, but duty bound him to the table. He couldn't just get up and leave because he didn't want to be here, he had a job and despite how he pretended not to care, he knew that he did. It never failed to annoy him when it was pointed out, even by himself.

What a wonderful start to his already _wonderful_  day.

Before he could spiral any deeper into his thoughts, the door opened and in walked his worst nightmare.

Fushimi had never met this man before. Had never seen him. Didn't know his name, or anything about him. His bright red hair demanded attention, his height and posture and muscular build demanded fear, his aura and piercing eyes demanded respect. Fushimi immediately tensed in his seat, a spike of adrenaline and fear running down his spine and settling in his stomach. He knew this man wasn't human, he knew that he was very powerful, and he knew not to mess with him.

_'Little monkey~'_

This man reminded Fushimi of his father, and he didn't like it at all.

"You!"

Fushimi couldn't help the jolt that his body did, and even though it was just a tiny movement, he felt like everyone had seen it. Maybe they had, because he saw everyone glance between him and the person that had shouted.

Fushimi sneered. "Oh. It's you."

On the intimidating man's left side, the creature from yesterday was standing and pointing at him. His red eyebrows were drawn into a scowl, his lips curled and showing off his fangs. A quick look showed two others with them, a tall blond man with sunglasses and a small albino girl gripping the man's jeans. He frowned at the sight, immediately assessing that no one in that group was human. There was no doubt in his mind. Supernatural beings held themselves a certain way, and it couldn't be masked or faked most of the time. Fushimi had been trained all his life to recognize these qualities. He'd made too many mistakes by not recognizing them, so he wasn't going to repeat them.

"What's the meaning of this?" Fushimi snarled as he snapped his head to look over at Munakata. "If this is about yesterday, I acted accordingly and you can't blame me for that. Frankly, I'm mad that these things aren't in chains right now." Or dead, but he didn't mention that part. He didn't think anyone in the room would enjoy the fact, and he was positive that at least three people present would kill him without a second thought.

The 'Yata' creature squawked indignantly at being ignored before Munakata could reply, cutting him off and opening his mouth to probably shout something else in his annoying voice, but he paused and sniffed the air. His gold eyes widened and he whipped his head to look at his three companions. "I can't smell him. At all."

The blond male frowned and leaned forward a little, his hands in his pocket. "Huh. I wonder why that is."

"He's got a spell on 'im," the tall redhead grunted, his voice deep and rough and making Fushimi's stomach tighten with nerves at being subjected to the narrowed gaze. The girl's wide maroon eyes were also on him like he was the most interesting goddamn thing in the room at the moment.

Wait, a spell? On him? Were they talking about Fushimi? And what was with the 'scent' thing? Surely whatever he was could smell him- most supernatural creatures could smell someone sitting less than twenty feet away from them. Fushimi was just about to comment, rather rudely, but Munakata started speaking before he had the chance. "Suoh, you aren't even going to properly greet us? Thank us for hosting you ruffians? You really are a barbarian." He kept the same polite tone, but it had a bite in it that Fushimi had never heard him use before with anyone. He spoke familiarly, but at the same time properly, and not at all fondly. So they had met each other before. He knew this person? This thing?

Fushimi, for the first time in his two years of being at Scepter 4, felt like secrets were being kept from him. Munakata was vague, but he was usually open about things. There weren't many things above the clearance level Fushimi had, so he'd never felt like things were hidden from him. He didn't enjoy it, especially with how big this was all starting to seem.

While he was still reeling in his thoughts, Munakata had invited the others to sit at the table. The one Munakata had called Suoh slouched in the chair furthest away from Munakata with his feet propped on the table and his chair leaning back, but answered Munakata's sharp, warning smile with a smirk. The girl was seated neatly in the chair to his right, the blond man standing behind her with his hands on the back of her chair. Yata was standing stiffly on the intimidating male's other side, his eyes still staring intently at Fushimi. It was making him uncomfortable, but also very irritated. Just what the hell was he looking at-? Oh, he wasn't looking at Fushimi. He was looking at the knife that now lay horizontally on the table, he'd forgotten that it was there. At least they knew he was armed.

Fushimi observed their appearances as quickly as he could to try and assess what exactly they were, what he was up against. The smallest of them all, the girl, looked pale and fragile next to them, but she held an aura that suggested she knew more than her appearances hinted at. She was wearing a gothic Lolita dress with ruffles and leggings almost as white as her pale, unnaturally so, skin. The man behind her had a red ascot tied around his neck and a neat, casual outfit on. He had a curious look on his face, but it was far from innocent curiosity. He looked like he was planning each way to kill every single person in the room and be able to make a brunch reservation afterwords.

He skipped over Suoh, not wanting to linger too long on the chains rattling on his jeans or the necklaces and rings on his fingers.

Yata looked the same that he had yesterday, a white baggy sweater with the sleeves rolled up, a beanie hiding unruly red hair, a red jacket tied around his waist and partially covering his ugly green shorts. Fushimi wondered if the stab wound hurt as much as his hand did, and took wicked satisfaction in the fact that it probably felt worse.

One thing that they all had in common (besides the weird matching red accessories, but who was he to judge when he wore the same outfit as his coworkers every day?) was that damn symbol that had kept Fushimi up half the night. Suoh had the symbol tattooed on the palms of his hands, which he got a glimpse of as Mikoto was lighting a cigarette. The little girl had a lacy choker on with a smaller version of the symbol hanging off of it. The tall blond murderer had his wrapped around his wrist, the symbol dangling and swaying with every movement. Yata's was still around his neck, proudly seated directly on the center of his chest.

"Seri-chan~ You're looking exquisite today," the blond greeted as he took off his sunglasses and pocketed them. He was leering at Awashima, and Fushimi couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at her. By the clench of her jaw, she looked like she wanted to do what Fushimi expected her to do: take her gun and shoot the man between his eyes. At least he'd taken off his sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses indoors? Blind people and douchebags, and this man certainly didn't seem like the former.

"Kusanagi," Awashima greeted curtly, her lip curling in distaste at the very name. She wasn't even going to try to pretend to be professional. How cute.

"Shall we get this started?" Munakata asked, breaking the tense silence. "Any questions that any of you have, we will straighten them out after we discuss the true meaning of this meeting: The Homra and Scepter 4 Treaty."

Fushimi almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at Munakata, his eyes wide. "Homra?" he asked sharply, his right fist clenching and sending a bolt of pain up his arm.

"That's right!" Yata shouted, leaning forward and slamming his palms against the wood. The whole table shook. "Homra! If you couldn't tell, from the obvious as fuck necklaces, we're from Homra and you attacked me!"

Fushimi blinked, trying to process the information. Homra, the word that had been on the same page that the symbol was on, the symbol that was around the necks of the creatures sitting ten feet away from him. His father had known something about these things, he knew something that he had been too senile to properly document. Or he was just fucking with Fushimi from beyond the grave, probably somehow knowing this would all happen. That was equally possible. What he didn't understand was who and what this 'Homra' group was exactly, what they wanted, what it had to do with him or Scepter 4.

Oh, yes, and there was the fact that their two groups apparently had a _treaty with one another_.

Why would Scepter 4, an organization that hunted, killed, and exercised supernatural beings, have a treaty with a group of supernatural beings?

Fushimi's bad feeling grew, and his day turned worse.

"I believe we should keep the outbursts to a minimum," Munakata said pointedly, earning him a glare from Yata. "There is much to discuss-"

"I don't listen to pansy ass cowards like you damn Blues," Yata snarled, looking like he was going to have another 'outburst' before Suoh hummed and he suddenly backed down without another word. He still didn't look too happy.

Fushimi could relate. "Captain-"

"Fushimi-kun," Munakata said quietly, but pointedly. "I'm sure you have questions, but they will be answered." He placed his hands on the folder and raised his voice so it would reach their guests. "Now, the treaty."

"Hold on, Munakata," Suoh said, nearly purring the name. It creeped Fushimi out, mainly because it was borderline flirty but with aggressive undertones. It was an odd combination, but Suoh seemed to make it work. "There's time for business later, I'd rather talk about him." It took Fushimi a minute, but he froze when he realized that Suoh was staring directly at him. "You said Fushimi, huh? Wouldn't happen to be related to Niki, would he?"

At his father's name, all the tension in Fushimi's body snapped and he was grabbing his knife and standing from his seat. Yata was the only one who reacted, jerking closer to Suoh's side. Anna's eyes widened slightly, but she remained as still as a statue. "How do you know that guy?" Fushimi spat, pure rage rushing through his veins. He was sick of this, he wished he could figure out this whole mess. Homra apparently knew Fushimi's father, so it wasn't just research in his journal. It was probably a recollection, like many pages were. Fushimi was just used to those recollections involving his torture, not anything else.

Suoh tilted his head, squinting at him. "You're his kid." Fushimi's wrist was suddenly forced onto the table, the knife slipping out of his hand. His eyes widened and his hissed in surprise at the sudden movement, trying to pick his pinned hand up or move his arm. It didn't work.

"Suoh," Munakata said dangerously. Awashima had her gun drawn, still pointed down until the signal from her captain. "Release him."

Suoh snorted, and Fushimi could move his arm again. He brought it to his chest, his other hand cradling it protectively, as he glared warily at Suoh. "Not my fault, he was looking like he was gonna throw that at me. I don't feel like getting stabbed today, especially not by Niki's kid."

"Tell me how you know him," Fushimi demanded. He knew he should be more cautious around this man, especially from the display of power he'd just witnessed, but he had long reached the end of his patience. "What is all this about?" He could feel his irritation reaching a dangerous point at the amount of confusion. He just wanted answers.

"He really doesn't know anything," Kusanagi commented, earning him an even nastier glare. Kusanagi grinned smugly, waving his hand exaggeratedly so that the necklace wrapped around his wrist was displayed and dangling for everyone to see. "My, Munakata-san, what a pleasant turn of events. How can you play a pawn if it doesn't even realize it's own potential? When it doesn't know the rules of the game?"

Kusanagi's eyes turned red, causing Fushimi to tense. _Crossroads demon_.

"Tell me, Munakata-san, when were you planning on telling poor little Fushimi-chan that he's a witch?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing worth mentioning, this is only the FIRST story in this series. And yes, it's a series now. I have a sequel planned to take place a year or two after the ending of this story, so at least you guys have that to look forward to. I MAY rename it as well, now that I've gotten the plot all figured out, so watch out for that. (I'll probably leave a little note in the summary so I won't confuse people.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, I kind of liked writing this chapter. I've been working on Owari and Haikyuu, so I forgot how much fun grumpy and angsty Fushimi was to write.
> 
> This chapter is UNEDITED, you are getting the RAW version, so if there are any mistakes, please disregard. I will probably fix them tomorrow or later tonight when I have time. Thank you.
> 
> Psst, come scream at me on Tumblr: anonymous-bush


	4. You're a Wizard (Witch), Harry (Fushimi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fushimi is Not Happy and Kusanagi is Very Happy. Mikoto gets mad and Yata is a kicked puppy. Also, Niki's evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty depressed, it's been a shitty couple of weeks, so this may not be my best writing. It's also really short, so I apologize for that. I'm getting better, though, so don't worry.
> 
> In other news, I'm really excited about this chapter. It really is coming together, and the plot is really starting to take flight here. Some stuff is explained, then of course there's more questions added to the mix. It's kind of my thing, whoops. Are you guys ready?

Fushimi was aware, distantly, that he had stopped breathing.

A wise man once said, "Demons lie." That man was an acquaintance of his father's, definitely not his friend, but he had good advice and good taste in food. It was a principle that all hunters lived by. You didn't trust supernatural things- with actions, with words, hell, don't even trust them with your dog. Demons will do or say anything to cause discourse, chaos. Especially with enemies. Especially with allies. They fed off the misery and pain of others, took pleasure turning people against one another, breaking apart relationships and twisting the truth to suit their needs.

Demons lie. Period. End of story.

Why did it sound so real when this demon spoke, though?

Kusanagi was still looking at him like he was a cat that just caught an injured canary. Fushimi very much felt like that canary. He spared a glance at his knife, knowing the blade part wouldn't hurt the demon but it was damn well worth a shot. If the iron particles in the handle was touched, the demon would be seared. Maybe then it would wipe the smirk off of its face.

"I'm not a witch," he heard himself say, not remembering the decision to interact with the demon.

There was no way he was a witch. People weren't just _witches_. It took devotion, studying magic, selling your soul to the dark arts. All that special jazz that Fushimi actively _did not do_. He killed witches. He wasn't one. There was no way that he was a witch, he had never cast a spell in his entire life. He was a human, a completely normal human, besides the hunting life and crazy dead father. Totally normal human.

Kusanagi didn't lose his grin. In fact, he looked even more happy. "Oh, but you are. See, you don't have to _study_  witchcraft to be a witch. Some people are born with the ability and magic already in them and they don't need to learn and adapt to it; they're called 'Naturals'. Their souls are literally made for it. It always happens eventually. One way or another, you'll end up a witch. Your father was one of the most powerful witches to walk this earth, he passed on his natural ability to you."

"He's a witch?!" Yata shouted, looking between Kusanagi and Fushimi in shock. "No way!" Fushimi didn't want to admit it, but he agreed with Yata. There was no way he could be a witch. Yata stared at him for a minute before his expression twisted into anger and something else that Fushimi didn't recognize. "You're a traitor to your own kind!"

"Excuse me?" Fushimi snapped.

"You heard me!" Yata started, pointing a finger at him. Fushimi was focused on how sharp the creature's nails were. "You hunt these creatures, but you're one of us! You're not a human, not at all. How can you pretend to be one of them when you belong with us! How can you hunt and kill your own kind?! How could you betray your own kind like that?!"

"Betray my own kind?" Fushimi muttered to himself, a shiver running up his spine and nausea settling in his stomach. _My own kind._

"Don't you have any pride at all?!"

Fushimi sneered at him, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. "Take your pride and shove it. Besides, even if I was a monster, there's no way I would have such childish pride about it like you."

Yata growled loudly and banged his fists on the table. Mikoto gave him a pointed look, but Yata must have felt it despite not being able to see it from his angle, because he backed off yet again. Like a dog when it's master wanted it to heel. Fushimi couldn't help but snort at the comparison. "Izumo's telling the truth," Mikoto said, staring at Fushimi. "I worked with Niki for a while. He was a crazy son of a bitch. Kicked him out of my coven after a while." There was truth and finality in his tone.

Fushimi's head was spinning. He didn't believe that demon, this man, but... It would make a lot of sense. His father never really aged much in all the years that Fushimi did, he always got out of trouble no matter how impossible the situation seemed. From what he knew, witches weren't _born_. They made themselves into witches by studying magic and sometimes selling their soul to get more power, and Fushimi could definitely see that guy selling his soul. Then again, he knew very little about witches to begin with. It was probably his father's fault, not wanting Fushimi to catch on to what they- he-

Wait.

"You knew?" he asked Munakata, whirling around to stare at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Awashima looking on in shock. At least she seemed as in the dark about this as he did. "Is this true? Did you know?"

Munakata stared at him, his expression carefully blank. It was times like this that Fushimi felt unsettled by his superior. "Fushimi-kun, I was planning on telling you."

"Were you?" Fushimi narrowed his eyes at him. "Of course, always a plan with you. When would it have been convenient for you? To tell me that I'm- that _he_  was.." He took a deep breath, keeping the hurt off of his face by drowning the emotion in irritation and annoyance. "Is that why you adopted me? To use me? To train me, or something?" The possibilities were endless. Munakata could have been working to gain his trust, to use him as a weapon against other supernatural creatures.

Munakata sighed. "It wasn't like that. I saw the potential you had, as a hunter, and when your father passed away, I decided to take you in."

"Saw my potential.." Fushimi snorted, turning towards the door.

"Fushimi-kun, this meeting isn't over-"

"It is for me," he snapped, glaring at Munakata. "Since this treaty or whatever wasn't important enough for me to know in the first place, you can continue on without me."

Munakata pressed his lips together thinly, nodding eventually. "Alright. You're dismissed."

As soon as he was given the permission he didn't need, Fushimi was brushing past the still grinning, tall blond with a shiver. He felt eyes on him as he left, slamming the door behind him and making a break for his room.

"How unfortunate," Munakata sighed once he was gone. "I was hoping to explain everything to him, but I suppose he needs time to adjust." He gave Kusanagi a sharp, polite smile that had far less well intention in it than appearance suggested. "Thank you for that, Kusanagi-kun."

The demon bowed his head, smirking at him. "Always happy to serve the great Blue King." Yata didn't look happy about the words, but he knew that Kusanagi was just teasing. Mikoto and Anna weren't too bothered.

Awashima, however, was looking at Munakata with confusion and uncertainty. She knew, logically, that Munakata always had a reason to what he did, but she'd seen how hurt Fushimi was despite his efforts to hide it. Munakata said he would explain, though, so she decided to wait for the events to play out. She was adaptable, it was one of her best traits.

"So you adopted that prick's kid," Mikoto said, raising an eyebrow at Munakata. "Interesting. Why?"

"Blunt as always," Munakata sighed. "However, I do not have to explain myself to you, nor do you have any business knowing anything about him or what he can do."

"Will do," Mikoto corrected him.

"You're planning something," Kusanagi finished, tilting his head. He frowned in puzzlement, working through the limited information he had to get a better view of the big picture. "It goes further than the treaty, this is just a step in your grand plan, right?" His eyes locked on the knife left on the table, looking back at Yata for a moment before he smiled. "He's a catalyst."

"Sharp as ever," Munakata commented, narrowing his eyes at how Kusanagi was picking apart his plans. "However, he's much more than a simple catalyst."

"I'm sure," Kusanagi leered.

"We're getting off topic," Munakata said, giving Kusanagi a pointed look before opening the file. "I'd like to address the treaty."

The parchment in the file was old, the stained paper with fancy lettering fraying at the edges. There were many pages underneath the top one, words flowing elegantly and neatly. The treaty was written long ago, by the leaders of Scepter 4 and Homra, to ensure that balance and peace remained in Shizume. There were many rules and negotiated obligations each party had to obey, but the main purpose was easily summarized. Homra was to not kill, hurt, or involve any innocent people in their affairs, and in turn Scepter 4 would not actively hunt or kill Homra members. If one were to break the agreements of the treaty, all negotiations would be void and neither side would be obligated to obey it any longer.

Basically, a war would break out.

"You don't need to address anything, I know what it says." Mikoto smirked at him. "I was there when it was written."

"I'm well aware of that fact," Munakata spoke carefully. "I am not suggesting we forget what happened yesterday. I know you barbarians are thirsting for revenge against Fushimi-kun."

"You're damn right we are," Yata growled, still wound up and agitated from earlier. It was amusing for Kusanagi to see him so annoyed with Fushimi; Yata had a temper, but no one had quite brought it out so far like the little witch. "He stabbed me! I don't even care about the treaty or whatever, that guy just pisses me off!"

Mikoto grabbed Yata's shoulder, causing the smaller redhead to relax instantly. "I agree. No one hurts Homra."

"How unusually sentimental of you, Suoh," Munakata hummed. "Then again, if someone hurt my familiar, I would want to get justice as well. That is why I'm proposing this: a different agreement. We re-write the treaty."

"You're just saying that because your dumb soldiers broke it in the first place," Yata snarled, earning him a sharp look from Awashima. He immediately back-pedaled, blinking and blushing under the stern gaze. "I mean, it.. You just don't wanna be, uh, held r-responsible...?"

"Excellent point, Yata-chan," Kusanagi said in amusement, taking pleasure in seeing Yata's disgruntled look. "Could use a little work on the execution."

"This treaty is old," Munakata continued, having accepted the fact that keeping so many people on track wasn't easy. He was used to it, thankfully, so he worked on steering the conversation back to the important topic. "Many negotiations that happened long ago are outdated, or no longer needed. It is unfortunate that it is being brought up like this, in the wake of a broken agreement, but now it is a necessity."

"So that's what he's a catalyst for," Kusanagi muttered to himself, but only Mikoto, Anna, and Yata heard him. They looked at him for a moment, expecting an explanation, but he just shook his head thoughtfully. He was still thinking. _'Later.'_

"So what, you hurt us and we don't get to hurt you back?" Mikoto took back the attention before Munakata or Awashima could question what they were up to, sharing looks like that. "Not interested," Mikoto shrugged, standing up and turning to leave with Anna by his side.

"I can offer you information," Munakata said, "in exchange for a temporary truce, until a new treaty can be negotiated on."

"I'm not interested in your little intelligence gathering," Mikoto drawled, rolling his eyes.

"I have information on the Colorless King."

Mikoto paused, his expression changing from bored to serious at the name. Anna's eyes widened and she gripped Mikoto's hand tighter. Kusanagi's fists clenched and his eyes flashed red, his expression one of concealed rage and hatred. Yata didn't know who this 'Colorless' was, but he sensed the change in emotion in his witch and tensed. He glanced up at Mikoto, shifting uncomfortably at the tension he felt in the room and the pure rage he felt through his and Mikoto's connection.

**_'Mikoto-san...?'_ **

Yata visibly flinched when he was suddenly cut off from Mikoto's mind, like a door had been slammed in his face. He felt odd and alone without Mikoto's emotions running through him, without the voice in his mind giving him orders or reassurance or praise. He felt alone even with Mikoto standing beside him.

It felt like when he was lost, without a witch, incomplete and without anyone to understand, before he'd met Mikoto. Mikoto had never closed him out like this... He didn't like it.

Mikoto leaned forward, his palms laying flat on the table. His tattoos on the palms of his hands seemed to glow red, the smell of burning wood wafting in the air, and his eyes glowed a menacing red that was different from Kusanagi's. Instead of his entire eye, it was just his iris that turned from gold to bright red. Yata backed away slightly, his breath hitching at the raw power and magic Mikoto's aura had, glancing to Kusanagi for guidance and not getting it. He wasn't sure how to process this change, because it was different than when Mikoto would deal with lowly demons or creatures that entered their territory. He looked absolutely murderous.

"Tell me what you know."

_ _ _ _

* * *

 

Fushimi slammed his door shut and leaned against it with all of his weight, letting out a shaky breath.

Now that he wasn't in that room, now that he was away, he felt like he could finally breathe. His thoughts were still racing a mile a minute, however. His chest hurt at the thought of Munakata keeping such important information about himself from him, as well as bitter anger.

What was Munakata thinking? He was smarter than this. He shouldn't have let a _monster_  in his hunting organization. Fushimi was a witch, he was dangerous. Hell, the spell they had been talking about was probably him. If he was unconsciously casting spells, even if it was only masking his scent, then he was even more dangerous. He wasn't even told about this, about who he was, how he was a monster. And yet Munakata still brought him here, to this organization, trained him with a sword and gave him a purpose. A place to belong.

Fushimi snorted. A place to belong. What a stupid thought. What good was a witch in a hunting organization? He didn't belong here any more than he belonged anywhere else, this just proved what he had always secretly feared. Even if Munakata still wanted him here, Awashima now knew. What if it got out? Surely everyone would be after him then, not wanting a witch anywhere around them. He didn't blame them. It was their job to kill things like him, not try to befriend them and work with them.

He was just like his father. A filthy, awful, soulless witch.

Finding things they shared in common always left a bitter taste in Fushimi's mouth. He didn't want anything to do with that man, he didn't want to be like him at all. Even beyond the grave, he was still managing to torment Fushimi.

He couldn't help but look at the book once again, frowning in irritation. That book said nothing about being a witch, there was no information-

The symbol.

Fushimi darted over, flipping to the page that held the symbol. The only legible words he could make out were still there. 'Monkey', 'dead', 'Homra', 'witch'.

_'I worked with Niki for a while... Kicked him out of my coven after a while...'_

The witch's voice floated through his head. He'd been too shocked to process it at the moment, but now that he was thinking about it rationally, it was starting to make sense.

Homra was obviously a coven, the symbol was their coven, Niki had been a part of that coven. That man, he was the leader, he'd known Niki, he'd kicked Niki out of his coven. It was finally coming together, in the worst of ways.

"This can't be it," he muttered, beginning to flip through the pages. "You have to give me more, dammit!"

He needed to know, he hated being in the dark. Maybe he could figure this out without Munakata having to explain it to him. He wasn't a child anymore.

Fushimi's eyes scanned the rest of the pages, looking for anything abnormal or anything that could benefit him. He was nearing the end, some pages left blank because of his father's 'untimely' death, but he still couldn't find anything.

Suddenly, in the corner of the page, there was a date and time. Along with the numbers, there was lettering that was smudged. He read the first part, '無', trying to decipher what Niki meant by that.

When he made out the rest, he couldn't help but sigh in annoyance. '色'. '無色'. 'Colorless'. Just a date, time, and the word 'colorless'.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. "How useless..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, you guys have such great reactions, I love them. I really do. It makes me happy to see someone commenting on my story. I look forward to hearing from you guys :) Again, sorry it's so short. I promise the next chapter will be longer.
> 
> Psst, come scream at me on Tumblr: anonymous-bush


	5. Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yata starts to see a problem, Kusanagi works on fixing one, and someone starts causing one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive????
> 
> Forreal tho, I was in the hospital for a while diagnosed with Crohn's, but I'm doing alright with my medication. In other news I'm sorry?? I spent all my energy on Kimiyoi week and didn't get to write much for this, plus everyone's wanting to hang out and stuff after I got out of the hospital, so I've been busy. And I recently went back to work as well, they have me working OT because we're so short-staffed.. Heh ^_^" Seriously tho, I get up at 4 every morning and work until 2 in the evening, and by the time I come home I usually just go to sleep. My schedule is opening up tho, so hopefully I'll be getting some more writing in!
> 
> But!! That being said, this story is not cancelled, do not worry. I have such great things planned. Such.

They were barely in the door before Kusanagi said, "I want him."

Mikoto didn't even spare him a glance, instead making a beeline for the couch. He plopped down, legs spread out and arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. "No."

"Oh come on, Mikoto," Kusanagi practically purred, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't tell me you're not the slightest bit intrigued by him."

Mikoto pressed a cigarette to his lips, humming quietly but not saying anything. Anna joined him on the couch, delicately sitting next to his abdomen and staring down at him.

"Wait wait, we're not talking about that witch, are we?" Yata asked loudly, closing the door to the bar behind him. "Because if we are, I agree with Mikoto-san."

"Of course you do," Kusanagi couldn't help but tease, his eyes lighting up with something that always managed to set Yata on edge, no matter how much he trusted the demon. "But loyalties to your witch and biased opinions aside, a Fushimi? On our side? He's just what Homra needs in order to win this war."

"The war with Scepter 4?" Yata asked, his brows furrowing. "But he's already on their side-"

"No." Kusanagi's expression darkened, and he looked over to where Mikoto was. The witch was still, and his expression blank, but Kusanagi had known him long enough to tell when he was tense. "I'm talking about with Colorless."

Yata frowned, taking a seat on the couch arm by Mikoto's head. "I didn't know that we had a war with..." He looked down at his lap, clenching his fists before looking back up. "What is he? What did he do?"

"He's a demon," Kusanagi spat, with more venom than Yata was expecting. Kusanagi always kept his composure, a light tone, and an easy grin. Yata suspected it was some form of self-defense, but from the other demons he'd met, it could just as easily be that: demonic nature. "And I use that term loosely. He's much more powerful than I, or any other demon I've ever encountered. He's something completely different, much different than the mindless drones that normally call themselves demons.." Kusanagi waved his hand dismissively. Yata was used to it, since Kusanagi didn't seem to like other demons much. Come to think of it, the blond hadn't been to hell in a while..

"Alright, so he's some sort of special case," Yata shrugged. "Super powerful and all that. But Mikoto-san is one of the most powerful beings in the world! It shouldn't be too hard to defeat him.." The familiar looked down at his witch excitedly. "Right, Mikoto-san?"

Mikoto was quiet.

Which, of course, was nothing unusual. Mikoto was a man of few words, but that only made what he said that much more powerful and special. Every command was uttered with a purpose, every syllable dripping with power, and Yata usually hung on every word he spoke with reverence. But when he was silent, truly silent, it put Yata on edge. Especially with their bond being cut off. Yata had never not had access to Mikoto's thoughts or emotions, so to have him silent, truly silent now, was unnerving..

Eventually, Mikoto spoke.

"Colorless has weaknesses just like everything else. Just gotta find it and punch the shit out of it."

Kusanagi snorted. "If only it were that simple, King. I don't think just punching him will work."

"It could," Mikoto shrugged.

"Yeah, I believe Mikoto-san!" Yata said determinedly. "If he can exorcise a demon with a punch, he could just as easily destroy one!"

"It doesn't work like that," Kusanagi sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "But, regardless of whether we're just going to punch him or do something that will actually work, we need to find him first. That witch could help us."

"How? He's untrained," Yata huffed, crossing his arms. "I doubt a newbie could do much."

"He's got a point," Mikoto shrugged. "Natural affinity or not, Anna can't even accurately pin down his location, and she's been training for years." Anna blushed, looking down at her lap, so Mikoto pat her head.

"You're doing really well, Anna!" Yata said excitedly. He'd seen the location spell she performed, and it took quite a lot of skill to get as close as she had to finding that vampire pack. "It was within a few blocks of those bastards, which is more accurate than any other spell I've seen!"

"Thank you," she said quietly and politely, shyly looking up at him.

"Tracking spells are very hard," Kusanagi said, giving them a pointed look. "But if he performed the spell with Anna this time, surely they'd be able to come up with something together. I'm not sure if you were paying attention, but that witch is very powerful despite how untrained he is. If he was cloaking himself subconsciously, then imagine what he could do if he applied himself."

There was a moment of silence as everyone let his words sink in. Mikoto had already tried to pinpoint Colorless's location when Anna had failed, but tracking spells weren't his forte. All of his power was with strength and damage, 'unrefined' in its use, as a certain hunter would scoff. He wasn't one for finesse when he could just as easily burn a problem, but this situation required finer, more delicate magic that Mikoto just wasn't used to or good at. Anna's precision was admirable, but she was still only in training. With the untrained witch on their side, it would still be tricky, but at least he could contribute his raw talent and power to get them somewhere. And now they knew for sure that Colorless was in the city, so it would be that much easier to find him.

Yata snorted. That witch seemed like he'd perform 'delicate' magic, what with those skinny wrists.

"I see your point," Mikoto grumbled eventually. "But even if I agreed to work with a Fushimi in the first place, how do you think we would even get him to agree to help? Other than kidnapping the brat." He gave Kusanagi a pointed look, one that said _'we are definitely not kidnapping the brat'_.

"We've done worse," Kusanagi shrugged. "Besides, the pros far outweigh the cons. We would have a powerful witch on our side and not Scepter 4's. We get to have a better chance at tracking him down, without Munakata Reisi's interference, and I bet it would piss him off if you took his toy away."

That caused Mikoto to pause, a smirk on his face. Well, he did like to piss Munakata off.. But the idea didn't sit right with him. The kid was.. Just that, a kid. If they took him to use and drain him of his power, they'd be no better than the monsters that took Anna...

"I still say no."

"I still say that we do it." Kusanagi wasn't backing down, glaring stubbornly at him. "You haven't seen what all this demon can do, Mikoto-"

"I think I've seen enough," Mikoto said dryly, an edge of warning in his tone causing Kusanagi to pause. "Do what you want," he finally said after a long minute, closing his eyes and looking very much asleep despite the obvious tension. The demon averted his eyes, frowning down at the ground. Yata could feel the tension increasing and nervously dragged his claws across the couch arm, careful not to rip the expensive furniture.

"Let's go upstairs, Anna. It's getting late," Kusanagi murmured, realizing the line he'd crossed. The girl looked up at him for a minute before nodding slowly, hopping off the couch and grabbing Kusanagi's hand. She looked back at Mikoto worriedly as Kusanagi lead her up the stairs, disappearing in the dark hallway.

"Mikoto-san..." Yata looked down at him as he hesitantly spoke up, his eyebrows furrowed. ".... What is this all about?"

Mikoto sat up, almost causing Yata to fall off balance at the unexpected move. Yata blinked, looking at Mikoto's tired golden eyes and feeling his stomach knot uncomfortably. It wasn't normal for Mikoto to show such weakness, but when Munakata had spoken that name...

 

_"Colorless is in the city," Munakata said, after making sure Mikoto would agree to his terms. "We're not sure what he's planning, but he's been possessing many civilians and committing... strange acts. We can't find a connection, can't figure out why he's doing all these things. But we have to assume that he has a plan, and that we just haven't been able to understand it yet."_

_Mikoto snorted. "How weird of you, Munakata. Admitting that you don't know anything.."_

_Munakata narrowed his eyes, polite smile still etched on his face. "Oh, but we know a few things. We have a few leads as to his possible base of operation.. Of course, I can't give you that information. We don't need any rash decisions from outside parties interfering with our investigation."_

_"What can you give me, then," Mikoto sighed. He knew he wouldn't get it out of Munakata if he didn't want to share that little tidbit of information. Besides, Mikoto would be able to find a way.._

_Munakata was silent for a minute. He stared at Mikoto with calculating eyes, causing Yata to feel unnerved at how easily the hunter seemed to see through Mikoto. The ease in which Munakata seemed to understand the witch grated on Yata's nerves, a spike of some sort of foreign emotion causing his chest to ache. When the hunter spoke again, Yata couldn't help but snarl. "All I can do is warn you not to act rash, and let us handle it."_

_"Let you handle it?" Kusanagi scowled. "After all that you've done so far? Which, I'll remind you, is **nothing**."_

_Mikoto snorted, amused._

_Munakata stood up slowly, his hands clasped behind his back in a perfectly regal posture. "I assure you, we have been doing plenty. I was telling you out of courtesy.." Then, the leader of Scepter 4 did something that completely shocked Yata._

_He gave Mikoto a sincere, concerned look. "Please, be careful."_

_Mikoto's eyes narrowed dangerously, causing Yata to tense uncertainly. With him not being able to sense Mikoto's emotions like he normally would, he felt uncertain of how Mikoto was going to react. It made him nervous._

_"I don't need you to tell me that," Mikoto said lazily, but with an underlying threat in his tone. "We're leaving."_

_"King," Kusanagi hissed, Yata's sensitive ears picking up the sound. "He didn't tell us-"_

_"I said we're leaving."_

_Kusanagi looked down at the floor, glaring at the polished marble before holding his hand out for Anna to take. The quiet girl stood up, pushing her chair in neatly before latching onto Kusanagi's arm._

_Yata shivered at the fire in Mikoto's eyes, the red aura surrounding him. "Colorless will burn, Reisi. With, or without, your help."_

 

"Colorless.." Yata's head snapped up to look at Mikoto as he spoke, his expression serious. "He's about the worst creature I've ever come across. Kills for no reason, tortures for fun.."

"So does every other demon.." Yata couldn't help but say, wincing slightly at his own disrespectful tone. "I mean, I know it's kind of a bad thing to do I guess, but we've all killed before. What makes this demon so different?"

Mikoto was silent again, lighting another cigarette slowly. He sighed out the smoke, lazily staring at the wall. "He took someone from me."

Yata's breath hitched. "You mean.."

Mikoto nodded.

Yata followed Mikoto's line of sight. He wasn't staring at the wall, but rather at a board with pictures tacked onto it. Pictures of their ragtag group, their clan, their coven. All complete, with everyone there, smiling and happy and eyes glowing unnaturally in the photos.

They weren't complete anymore. They weren't all there, and they weren't smiling as much now.

"So he's..." Yata cleared his throat, taking a deep breath when his voice cracked. "He's the one that killed Totsuka-san?"

Mikoto nodded again, not saying anything.

Yata's thoughts were racing, his blood boiling with all the emotions he was experiencing. "Why didn't you... I mean, you said it was a demon that killed him, but you never said that it was so powerful... Why have you never told us? Is it because you thought we wouldn't want to fight if we knew how powerful he was-?"

"It's not like that," Mikoto interrupted sharply.

Yata stopped talking immediately, looking down at the floor. He was so frustrated, not at Mikoto but at himself for not being able to understand. It had only been a few hours, but ever since their connection had been severed, Yata hadn't been able to understand Mikoto, hadn't been able to predict his actions like he normally could. It was a completely foreign feeling, being connected to his witch and then suddenly thrown out on the street alone. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth in anger. He didn't blame Mikoto, but he had to wonder...

"Why?" he asked quietly.

Mikoto gave him a look.

"No, not about the demon thing," Yata muttered. "Why did you block me?"

It was silent for a minute. Yata was about to say something else, but before he could, there was a hand on the top of his head. He looked up to see Mikoto, now standing in front of him, and there was a rush of affection through the bond they shared. His shoulders sagged in immediate relief of being connected again, his head nuzzling into the witch's hand. Mikoto was looking down at him, his face blank but his eyes shining with emotions that Yata still couldn't make out, even with their bond.

"You'll understand one day," Mikoto muttered, pulling away and heading up the stairs without another word. The cold feeling was back, along with the mental block, and that combined with his cryptic words made Yata's stomach role with uncertainty.

* * *

 

Kusanagi hummed. "Simple, but elegant. A little dusty, though."

He took a look around the room, the tacky blue walls and the drawn black curtains making it almost pitch black. He was a demon, though, and demons thrived in the darkness, so he had no trouble seeing. It was cold in the room even to him, and bare of anything personal to reflect anything about the person that lived there. He dragged his fingers along the edges of the wall as he took a closer look, snickering as he stepped right over the broken Devil's Trap. A bed with crumpled, unmade sheets in the corner with a desk underneath the window, nothing much out of the ordinary- oh, what's that? On the desk, cluttered with paperwork and things probably containing information about supernatural occurrences that would be very valuable to know, was a very old leather-bound book. A spell book, perhaps? He reached out, his fingers brushing against the worn leather.

"Interesting," he muttered, reaching for the clasp distractedly so he could open it. He hissed and yanked his hand back, skin burning. Of course. Iron clasp, so he wouldn't be able to open it like that. He flicked his hand once the pain went away, unlocking the iron clasp and slinging the book open to a random page. He picked up the book carefully, his eyes skimming the blurred and overlapping words.

His eyes widened when he realized just what it was that he was reading, and just who had written it.

"Niki....."

* * *

 

Fushimi irritably dried his hair with a towel, his clothes soaked and cold. He'd cleaned his glasses of the water droplets with the towel first, so he could see, but without changing, there wasn't much he could do to get the rest of his body dry. Of course they had a mission when the worst storm of the century was happening outside.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. But Fushimi was pissed at the inconvenience. All he'd wanted to do was stay at his desk and stew in his work for a while, but the Captain had gotten word of an okami causing trouble downtown. Of course, Fushimi didn't go alone. He'd been sent out with a few members of the hunting squad, not all of them but enough to be annoying. Hidaka and Andy had come, and Fushimi was grateful that at least Akiyama had come as well; he was the only mildly tolerable one in the entire organization.

"Fushimi-kun, you seem irritated," Hidaka spoke up cautiously, wincing when Fushimi turned his sharp gaze towards him. "The mission was a success. Are you okay?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, looking outside at the lightning through a large floor-to-ceiling window. _'You wouldn't be so kind to me if you knew what I now know,'_ he thought bitterly, watching the rain pelt the glass. "It's nothing."

"Was it the meeting a few days ago?" Andy asked curiously, hitting the nail right on the head. "You've been acting different since then, not that it's a bad thing! Just off, you know? And I t was super secretive, not even Akiyama-san knows what it was about!" Akiyama looked vaguely uncomfortable about being mentioned and with the general flow of the conversation, glancing down at the floor. "We've been brainstorming all day what it could have been about.."

"Don't lie," Fushimi huffed, rolling his eyes. "You all had to ruin the traps in order for it to happen. I know you know who was here."

"Well yeah, Homra was here," Andy shrugged. "But we don't really know why. They've been here before, a long time ago apparently, before I'd even started working here! Only Akiyama-san was working here now that I think about it.."

Andy was an idiot, but Fushimi couldn't help but think of how he could be very perceptive sometimes. He raised an eyebrow at Akiyama, who still looked very uncomfortable.

"Really?" Hidaka asked him, finishing with his hair. It still stuck up at odd angles. "I wonder why..."

"I'm not at liberty to say," Akiyama murmured clearly at the two's curious glances. Even Fushimi was a little curious, but he didn't let it show like those two idiots. "Confidential."

Andy shrugged. "It's alright. It happens. Can't help but wonder, though." He threw his towel over his shoulder, waving at them and smiling brightly as he started walking away. "I'm heading back to my room now, I'm beat! See ya!"

"Don't forget to write your report!" Hidaka reminded him, shaking his head with a smile when Andy just hurried his pace and scurried around a corner.

"Fushimi-san, would you like me to accompany you to report to the Captain?" Akiyama asked politely.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was go to Munakata for the mission debrief, especially with what happened a few days ago. "It can wait until morning. It's too late right now.."

Akiyama and Hidaka gave him weird looks. He understood, because, while it was very late, it had been later in the past when he had went in to deliver reports or debriefs. As hunters, they usually worked at night or during odd hours of the day. Even if it was two in the morning, they had worked later than that. The Captain seemed to always be in his office...

"I can go, if you'd like," Akiyama offered. "Even though you were leading the mission, I can-"

"It's fine," Fushimi said curtly. "It wasn't that important so it can wait until morning."

Akiyama and Hidaka exchanged glances before the former nodded and bowed slightly. "Alright, Fushimi-san."

Not wanting to linger around any longer, Fushimi turned and started walking towards his room. He heard them say goodbyes, but he just kept going as he worked on drying his soaked locks of hair. Letting out a heavy breath at the ache in his muscles, he decided to wait and catch a bath in the morning, since he was already soaking wet and irritated. He was going to retire to his room and do more research before it got _too_ late. There were still a lot of questions to be answered, and he was going to get to the bottom of it even if no one else would help him- not that he wanted it, of course. Victory was only tolerable when it was accomplished alone, otherwise what was the accomplishment at all if you needed help achieving it?

Fushimi unlocked his door, pushing it in and tossing his towel blindly towards the bed. He kicked off his boots after closing the door, reaching to unclasp his sword before he suddenly tensed and froze. He let out a breath, knives falling neatly between his fingers as his eyes caught movement in the darkness of the room. "I know you're here.. Show yourself."

The lamp on his desk suddenly came on, flooding the room with light. His eyes hurt at the change, but he kept them open so whoever- or whatever- was there wouldn't catch him blinded and off-guard.

"You have sharp instincts."

Fushimi narrowed his eyes, fingers clutching his knives tighter.

The blond demon smirked, setting his father's journal back down on the desk. "Once again, very impressive."

"Get out," Fushimi said with gritted teeth. "Treaty or not, no matter who the hell you are, I don't tolerate pests in my space."

"You don't seem the type to care for things like that," Kusanagi said, waving his hand idly. "You didn't even sign the treaty or agree to it in the first place, so why should you follow it? Quite frankly, I'm surprised you haven't thrown a knife at me already."

Fushimi gave him a blank stare. "Don't pretend to understand me."

Kusanagi laughed, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms, eyes flashing in amusement. "I'm doing no such thing."

"What _are_ you doing, then?" Fushimi asked suspiciously, not relaxing at all. He risked a glance down, noticing the broken Devil's Trap. "Why are you here?"

"It's not to hurt you, or anything like that, so you can put the knife down."

Fushimi snorted.

"No, really!" The demon raised his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to talk."

"I'm not interested in anything a demon has to say," Fushimi huffed. "So just leave if you're going to be a bother."

Kusanagi smiled. "Look, kid. I know you're smart, probably smarter than a lot of people here. But I also know that you're a bit clueless about this whole thing. A lot of things happened the other day that probably shocked you. I'm here to give you a little..." He paused, tilting his head. "... insight."

"Like I'd trust anything you told me," Fushimi said, rolling his eyes. "You just said I was smart, but it sounds like you think I'm a dumb, gullible idiot."

"I suppose that's what it would sound like to you. But think of it this way: you have absolutely no reason to trust me, so you can use what I tell you as a guideline to your research." Kusanagi gestured to the journal, and the paperwork underneath. "You've got a lot of promising theories, but they're all dancing around the truth. There's no real connection except what I'm going to tell you. And then you can see if I'm telling the truth or not later."

Fushimi paused, hesitation hidden expertly as his brain quickly thought through the likely outcomes. If this demon was telling the truth, even though it was very unlikely, then Fushimi would have a lot more to work with. And if he was lying, the worst that would happen is that Fushimi would have wasted his time trying to prove it. If the demon wanted to attack him, he would have done it already. There was just one problem..

"What's in it for you?" Fushimi asked him, tucking away some of his knives. He still held one in his hand, just in case, but he had a feeling that Kusanagi wouldn't try anything on enemy territory. "Demons never do anything without an ulterior motive. What do you want?"

"You," Kusanagi shrugged. He grinned at Fushimi's indignation. "Don't worry, I don't want your soul. But you want information, I have it. It's very simple. I give you information, you give me your services, it's an equivalent exchange."

"Don't make it sound so simple when it's not," Fushimi snapped, rolling his eyes. "There's always a catch. I'm not giving you anything, especially not my 'services'."

Kusanagi laughed, pushing away from the desk and closer to Fushimi. "You make it sound like a bad thing! All I want is your help to take down a demon, a very bad demon that you'll be hunting down soon anyway. And in exchange, I'll tell you anything you want to know. One of your conditions can be to make it so I can't lie to you, if you'd like. You know as well as I do that I can't break the contract."

Fushimi bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to let the demon know he was considering his offer. He was making a lot of sense, more sense than anything had the past week. Besides, this demon hadn't lied to him yet. He'd been more truthful to Fushimi than his own Captain had. And if telling the truth was part of the deal, it wasn't like Kusanagi could break it even if he wanted to, so he didn't even have to necessarily trust him. Sure, he'd be getting the information from someone else, but Fushimi was making an exchange for it. Deals and conditions were easier to deal with than unconditional favors.

"Fine," Fushimi spat out. "But I want to know the details of what I'll be doing in return for this."

"Just a little tracking spell, nothing too big," Kusanagi shrugged. "You'll have to train, of course, since you're so new to magic even if you have the power to back it up. But don't worry, we can train you. Being a witch really isn't so bad. And you don't have to sell your soul for it..." He grinned at Fushimi like he was making a joke that Fushimi didn't understand, nor did he want to understand. "Unless you want to, of course."

"Unlikely," he huffed, rolling his eyes. It would be useful to know magic, of course... Even if the thought of being one of them, one of the things he'd been trained to kill since birth, made him sick. He'd done worse things, he reasoned. Finding another thing to hate about himself wasn't really all that new, no matter how big, and no matter how many times it happened. "... I guess a tracking spell wouldn't be too much of a bother to learn if it will help take down a demon..."

"Perfect!" Kusanagi clapped his hands together, giving Fushimi a proud smile. It made his stomach turn. "So, we're in agreement. I'll answer any question you have truthfully, as long as I know the answer, and you'll cast a tracking spell once you learn it. Sound good?"

Fushimi took a deep breath, holding out his hand. "Deal."

"You know that's not how it works," Kusanagi chuckled, stepping closer and smirking at Fushimi's obvious discomfort that he tried to hide and his irritation that he didn't bother trying to cover up. "Sorry, kid. I can tell you have personal space issues, so let's get it over with."

Fushimi glanced over at his research, at his father's journal, all still refusing to give him anything to work with. The past few days had been confusing and aggravating to the point where, if Fushimi were anyone else, he would have already given up. He was stubborn, however, and he refused to quit until he finally knew just what had been kept from him for so long. He knew his father had something planned, there were too many coincidences for there not to be a plan, and there was no way he would let his father continue to torment him even in death.

So, before he could change his mind or hesitate even longer, he stood on the tips of his toes, reached up to pull the infuriatingly tall demon down, and pressed their lips together. Kusanagi was more gentle than he'd thought he would be, combing his fingers through Fushimi's damp hair almost intimately, and even though it was a quick kiss, he could still tell that Kusanagi was skilled. It would make sense, given that he was a crossroads demon that made deals probably all day long.

When Fushimi pulled back, as quickly as he could, he looked at the smirking Kusanagi and couldn't help but feel like he'd just signed his soul away, even if that was nowhere in the deal.

* * *

 

"Seems like such a waste..."

The girl sighed, standing up and combing through her long, wet hair. The alley she was in was dark, a flickering streetlight just around the corner the only thing giving light to the area. She scuffed her shoe against the wet, dirty ground, humming as she dragged her feet through the puddles.

"It wasn't a waste, just messy. You can still get all of it!"

She tilted her head, glancing around. While it was messy, garbage scattered along the ground, her goal was still salvageable.

"I suppose you're right. Just a little extra work..."

"There's always extra work to be done. It will all be worth it soon."

"So very worth it," she whispered, a grin forming on her face.

She bent down, grabbing the garbage by the hair and pulling it up. Blood spurted from the wound on its neck, and she held a silver chalice out so the blood started pooling in the cup. She let the body slump to the ground after she was done, regarding the other bodies as trash. "You all belong by the dumpsters anyway," she chirped cheerfully, twirling her finger in the cup.

As she danced between the bodies littering the ground, she let her eyes fade to a plain white, her irises and pupils disappearing. "Time to get things rolling~ Wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course," she answered herself, grin widening. "I've waited long enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I love this chapter, seriously.
> 
> Just so you know, there will be more Kusanagi kisses for other people. It's part of the job lol.
> 
> I hope you all liked this, I know it's kind of a long LONG filler chapter, lots of talking and such. But it will pick up soon (like, very soon, I hope you guys are ready).
> 
> Anyway, feel free to come scream at me on tumblr (anonymous-bush) or twitter (@mama_kusanagi).


	6. Soul Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kusanagi brings Fushimi back to Homra to practice the location spell. Includes a fight with a vampire, a demon doing way too much scheming, and a familiar with a crush on a certain witch and in total denial about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this late late chapter here you go enjoy the words and sorry if it feels weird? It's a weird chapter and my writing is weird. I'm not that good with dialogue and there's SO MUCH of it just kill meeeee

Fushimi didn't expect to be swept away directly after making the deal. One minute, he was standing in the low light of his room, still slightly wet and freezing from the cold air conditioning, but the next minute he was standing in the middle of.. a bar? The wood floors and fancy decorating, along with the warm air and orange-ish lighting, was a drastic difference to the cold marble and blue and white decorum of Scepter 4. Another big difference was the room full of monsters. They might not have the outward appearance of the evil sons of bitches that they were at the moment, no fangs or glowing eyes and such, but Fushimi knew how to spot supernatural creatures. To the untrained eye, they would just look like a bunch of hoodlums, as Munakata would call them. Fushimi preferred the term "douchebags".

Fushimi glared at Kusanagi, yanking his arm away from where the demon was holding onto his bicep. "What the hell?!"

"Did I not mention that the deal is effective immediately?" Kusanagi said in amusement, taking a step back from the annoyed hunter that still had most of his weapons. "It's in the contract."

"What contract?" Fushimi spat, then hissed when Kusanagi snapped his fingers. His skin felt like it was burning. He looked down at his forearms, pushing down his wristbands in order to see some sort of ancient writing etched and burned into his skin. It looked like a mix of Latin and hieroglyphics- demon language. Not many people knew that demons had their own language, just like most people didn't work for the most prestigious hunting organization in the world. "This better not be permanent."

Kusanagi rolled his eyes, the writing fading away. "It disappears after the deal has been fulfilled. Though it's usually with death on the other person's part. You're lucky."

"Can I interrupt?" Kamamoto said awkwardly, earning a wary glare from Fushimi and an amused look from Kusanagi. "Why did you bring a hunter here?"

"It's the witch," Yata growled, standing up with his fists clenched. Fushimi was less than amused to be standing in the same room as Yata again. Yata's enraged expression suddenly turned to confusion, and he sniffed the air a few times. "Why can I smell you again?"

Fushimi sneered. "Don't you have anything better to do than worry about my scent?"

Yata bristled defensively. The hunter's scent was one of the most interesting things about him, since he wasn't really concerned with whether he should be on his side or not. That decision had already been made and Yata, though not liking it, had understood the reason behind Kusanagi and Mikoto's argument and subsequent decision. So really, Yata was just bugged by that honey and herb scent, now mixed with rain, surrounding the interior of the bar that usually smelled like sulfur and lingering blood and whatever weird smell Eric had. Really, just what the hell was he?

Anyway, the hunter.

"I'm just wondering why you have to hide your scent when you're at the damn Blue's place but then when you're away from there I can suddenly smell you," Yata huffed.

Fushimi's brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that it just happened at work, it had never been brought up there _or_ when he was on a mission.. "I don't know what you're talking about, I don't hide my scent at all." At least, that he knew about. Why was he casting spells even when he hadn't learned how to yet?

Kusanagi hummed thoughtfully, thinking along the same lines that Fushimi was. Had he been casting the spell on himself? Or was it someone else?

He remembered, suddenly, that Fushimi wasn't the only witch in Scepter 4 and grinned.

Now that that was out of the way, it was time to intervene before the familiar and hunter started going for each others' throats. "Now now, no need to be so hostile with one another. We're all on the same side."

"He's not on our side," someone scoffed. It sounded like Bandou. "He'd kill us all right now if he could."

"Oh, I can," Fushimi assured, a knife falling into his hand and causing everyone to tense. "And I'm thinking about it, believe me."

"Go ahead and do it," Yata barked, storming across the room and closer to the witch before anyone could stop him. Not that they would want to. "You're outnumbered. You don't even know what everyone is, so how would you take them down?"

Fushimi scowled for a minute, then smirked. Time to test this deal that he'd made. "Kusanagi-san, what is everyone in here?"

Kusanagi hummed. Very smart, using their contract to get information. He'd have to be careful, because while he was wanting to help Fushimi understand and maybe get him on their side permanently, it wasn't worth spilling their coven's secrets. Fushimi would just take advantage of them.

"The one at the bar eating, that's Kamamoto. He's a rugaru, strictly 'vegetarian', in a sense. He only eats animal meat, it was part of the treaty so don't bother trying to catch him hunting humans." Kusanagi ignored everyone's shocked faces that he was telling the hunter this. He'd explain it after he was finished. "You've already met Mikoto and Anna, they're both witches and Anna is a psychic. Shouhei is a nachzehrer, and Bandou is a vampire, they're the ones on the couch." Shouhei waved, but Bandou just snorted and crossed his arms. "Chitose is an okami, he's the one dressed like an annoying hipster. Beside him is Dewa, he's a vetala that was separated from his pack." Dewa nodded respectfully and Chitose just leered at Fushimi, causing the hunter to curl his lip distastefully at the display. "Eric's our newest member. Don't really know what he is but he doesn't smell completely human either so we're a little at a loss. Beside him is Fujishima, he's a real find. A kitsune we ran into in the mountains." They both just stared at Fushimi, their eyes unnatural even if they looked completely normal, and it unnerved the hunter to be under their intense gazes.

"And Yata-chan here, he's a familiar."

Fushimi's eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar word. "Familiar?"

"Ha!" Yata laughed suddenly. "You think you're such hot shit and you don't even know what I am?"

Fushimi scowled at Yata, reaching with his other hand to pick at the scabs of where Yata had bit him. "I'm sure I could find a way to kill you. Just because I haven't heard of you doesn't mean I'm at all defenseless-"

In an instant, Yata was suddenly there in front of him, grabbing his wrist and prying it away from his injured hand. Fushimi tried to pull it free, but after a few seconds of failing, he let a knife fall into his injured hand and held it to Yata's neck. "Let go of me."

Yata continued to stare at him. "For a fancy Blue hunter, you sure are dumb." He loosened his grip so Fushimi could yank his wrist free, cradling it defensively close to his chest while lowering his hand that had the knife begrudgingly. "Don't be picking at that scab, you'll start bleeding, and a lot of guys in here are attracted to the smell of blood."

"What, they don't have any self control?" Fushimi huffed, rolling his eyes. "Just what I expected from a group of ragtag monsters."

Yata glared at him and opened his mouth to say more, but suddenly Kusanagi stepped between them. "Now now, children, let's calm down," he said in amusement, hands resting in his pockets. "Saru-chan, this isn't what we came here for."

Fushimi scowled at the nickname, hearing Yata and a few others snicker. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Yata-chan, why don't you join us?" Kusanagi asked, smirking in amusement. "You know a few spells, surely you can teach Fushimi something useful."

"That's not part of the deal," Fushimi snapped before Yata had a chance to reply. "I'm only here for a tracking spell, nothing else."

"I wasn't gonna teach you anything, anyway," Yata scowled, looking at Kusanagi out of the corner of his eyes but keeping most of his attention on Fushimi. Why would he teach him spells? Sure, he knew that Kusanagi wanted to test Fushimi's limitations and strengths, but was it really such a good idea to be teaching the witch magic when he would ultimately go back to being their enemy in the end? "You seriously had to make a deal to get him here?"

"Mikoto didn't like my kidnapping idea," Kusanagi shrugged. "I had to improvise."

"So you really kissed him?" Chitose piped up suddenly. The others had already went back to their own conversations, but Chitose's interest was stolen by the three. Yata's cheeks colored at the mention of kissing, his wide eyes darting between the demon and the witch.

"Why is that the only thing you're interested in about the deals I make?" Kusanagi sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if it would have the answer. No dice.

"Maybe I wanna be a crossroads demon one day," Chitose shrugged. "Kissing a whole bunch of people every day? Sounds like the dream." He sighed wistfully. "Don't know why you don't get out more, Kusanagi-san. You haven't made any deals in years."

Fushimi's eyebrows furrowed, looking at Kusanagi curiously. A crossroads demon that didn't make deals? Almost unheard of.

"I have a lot more interesting things going on," Kusanagi shrugged, looking over at Fushimi intensely. "It's time to begin your training. Let's get you into some dry clothes-"

"I'm fine," Fushimi said curtly, finally returning his knife back to its harness up his sleeve with a flick of his wrist. He didn't need, nor want, this demon's fake kindness. "Let's just hurry, I have work to do other than this."

"Very well." Kusanagi turned to the others. "Anyone who doesn't know magic, stay down here and don't interfere. It's important that their concentration isn't broken. King's orders."

Fushimi couldn't help the slightest narrowing of his eyes at the mention of the "King". Kusanagi wasn't their leader, that much was obvious, though he was most likely the brains and second in command by the way he held himself. Demons were sneaky and deplorable, but undeniably smart. There were lower tiers of demons and higher tiers, and Kusanagi was obviously in the higher tier. It made Fushimi wonder why he let himself be in a position to take orders. Higher tier demons always had problems with that.

Fushimi remembered the red haired man, with his chains and rings and aura of pure power, and shuddered when he realized that he was probably the man in charge.

"I'm coming with you," Yata huffed, crossing his arms and following Kusanagi as he led Fushimi to the stairs. "There's no way I'm leaving Mikoto-san and Anna in a room with this guy."

"Think they can't handle themselves?" Kusanagi chuckled.

"Of course they can," Yata said proudly, shooting a suspicious glance at Fushimi. "I just don't trust this traitor."

"Again with that?" Fushimi drawled. "I'm not a traitor. I've been a human since the day I was born."

"Correction, you've been a witch," Yata snarled, "since the day you were born. You're a natural, it's in your blood. It's who you are."

"And who are you to tell me who I am?" Fushimi snapped right back.

"You're a Fushimi."

Fushimi jumped at the deep voice, jerking around to find the source. Kusanagi had opened a door that led to a warm, dimly lit room. A hand on his back gently pushed him in, causing Fushimi to scowl at Kusanagi as the demon smiled encouragingly at him. Sitting on the couch at the center of the room was Anna and Mikoto, the man smoking a cigarette.

"Don't you think it's a bad idea to have a child around cigarette smoke?" Fushimi commented, crinkling his nose at the smell.

Mikoto ignored him. "You're a legacy. Whether you want to be or not."

Fushimi huffed, glaring down at the floor. He didn't think he'd be able to look Mikoto in the eye long enough to glare as much as he wanted. "I was never told about all this, how the hell was I supposed to know?"

Mikoto shrugged. "Don't know. Your old man was crazy."

Fushimi's stomach turned at the thought of his father. "Whatever. I'm here now and I made a deal, so let's get on with this," he deflected, directing his attention to Kusanagi- not the lesser of evils in the room, maybe, he was still deciding on all that, but definitely the more tolerable one. Demons were smart and Fushimi could actually tolerate things with sense in them. Things without, well.. They got very aquatinted with his knives very quickly.

The familiar, one of the "things without", brushed past him into the room, stepping beside the couch on the intense redhead's left side. He looked like a knight stepping up to a king's side, the king lounging on his throne with his princess on his other side. The image didn't disappear as Kusanagi shut the door, the advisor leading him closer to the sleek black table with candles, powders of something and what looked like the bones of a cat in silver bowls, and a map of the city on it. And oh, how utterly strange it was to be the one stepping up to the table to perform a _spell_. Fushimi glanced over at Kusanagi, frowning. "I thought this was training, not the real deal."

"It is," Kusanagi said, ushering Fushimi towards the alter and having him sit down on his knees, the table close to the ground. "We just want to see how you latch on to supernatural energies for now."

"Great," Fushimi muttered sourly. "And how the hell am I supposed to 'latch on' to the energies of monsters?"

Kusanagi quieted Yata's snarl with a look, turning back to Fushimi. "This is going to be a little difficult, especially since you aren't very thrilled with the idea of being a witch, to put it lightly. One of the easiest things for a witch to learn is reading energies. Locating gets a little fuzzy, as well as identifying, but every witch knows how to differentiate human souls and things not so human."

"Okay," Fushimi muttered slowly, picking under his nail with a knife idly. "So how do I do it? I don't exactly go around looking for _energies_ ," he sneered. "Humans don't do that."

"Right," Kusanagi huffed, his hands on his hips as he faced Mikoto. Oh great, now he looked more like the nagging queen than the royal advisor. "Shouldn't you be explaining this, oh great and mighty Red King?"

Mikoto hummed quietly, his gaze lazily pinning Fushimi to his spot on the floor. And here he was, the kneeling prisoner, enemy of the kingdom. The comparison of royalty was looking all too fitting at the moment, and made Fushimi feel far too small, so he straightened his posture under the gaze of the older witch. Really, what was with the "Red King" nickname? It was starting to grind on Fushimi's nerves, because surely someone as crass and lazy as this man appeared couldn't be so admired.

"It usually finds me," Mikoto shrugged, finally saying something after a long moment of silence. "I open myself up to possession until something comes along and tries to feed on my energy. Then I just scare it off back to where it came from and go after it once I'm back in my body."

"Astral projection?" Fushimi asked at the same time Kusanagi screeched, "You _what_?!"

Mikoto shrugged to both, not answering as he lit a cigarette with the snap of his fingers.

"That's dangerous, and reckless, and you're not going to do that," Kusanagi chided in Mikoto's direction even though he was talking to Fushimi. "He may have centuries on you, but you're smarter than that. Um.. Yata-chan, do you know how to explain it?"

Yata rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me, I don't do dainty magic."

"Ah, but Mikoto does that type of magic. Does that mean he does dainty magic?" Kusanagi couldn't help but tease.

Yata's cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink in indignation. "No! What he does is dangerous, and reckless. Not dainty."

Fushimi scoffed before he could stop himself. "Just stupid." He fidgeted under Mikoto's look, even if he didn't look outwardly angry, but it was worth it to hear Yata squawk.

"Mikoto-san's not stupid!"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, managing to swallow his retort. He got away with insulting the man once, he didn't want to chance it again. "Of course not."

Yata growled and looked close to using his bared fangs, but Mikoto raised his hand to stop him. Kusanagi hummed when Yata became subdued, noticing Fushimi also watching the interaction with veiled curiosity. "Back to the topic at hand," Kusanagi continued, "Anna, would you like to explain?"

Anna was quiet for a moment, making Fushimi wonder if she was mute and they were being cruel to her- hey, they were monsters, it wouldn't be the lowest thing they'd probably done- or if she was finally going to speak. Her quiet voice spoke up smoothly, surprising Fushimi slightly. "It's like hearing a heartbeat, but also not. Humans feel different, and so do other things. It's not easy to explain," she murmured apologetically. Fushimi tilted his head a little in an awkward nod, letting her know that he acknowledged her apology.

"Doesn't sound too difficult," Fushimi said finally. "So I just meditate?"

"More or less," Kusanagi shrugged.

"I hope not everything is as vague as this," Fushimi muttered curtly, closing his eyes. Once he found his concentration, blocking out Yata's occasional yawns and Mikoto's deep, steady breaths- was he asleep?- he tried to sense the energy around him. There was nothing but silence and darkness with his eyes shut and everyone still, and he was a little unnerved to have his eyes closed and be in a foreign, enemy territory, but just as he was about to give up, it happened. He felt a shift in his senses. A pulse, scarily like a heartbeat just like the little witch had said, coming from his one o'clock. An orange vibration in his senses that was more than a little difficult to explain and even harder to pinpoint. Fushimi opened his eyes and looked in the direction he 'saw' the pulse, blinking when he noticed that it was Yata, slouching on the couch arm and trying to stifle another yawn.

"That.. is sort of hard to explain," he muttered finally, Kusanagi grinning down at him. He'd caught everyone's attention after so much silence. "I just saw Misaki."

"Don't call me that, shitty monkey!"

"Very good, Saru-chan," Kusanagi interrupted, patting Fushimi's shoulder. Fushimi tensed, not offering any protests despite the fact that the contact made him uncomfortable. He was getting sick of how much the people at Homra felt the need for physical contact, and thanked whatever deity was listening that there was only one person in Scepter 4 with no clue what personal space was. "Now try to expand your reach, beyond this room, and see what you can find."

Fushimi sighed in aggravation, closing his eyes again and concentrating harder. More pulses slowly appeared the more he concentrated; to his left, there was a dark black pulse, no doubt Kusanagi. His front left showed two pulses, one silver and the other a darker silver. Yata's orange pulse was beside the latter, flicking more like a flame. But he could do better than just that room. He took a deep, quiet inhale, and as his chest fell with the breath he was letting out, he felt the tips of his fingers and toes start to go numb. The tingling sensation slowly crawled throughout his body, every nerve warming comfortably until he eventually could feel nothing whatsoever. It started to feel more like meditation than concentrating on 'energies', but Fushimi couldn't bring himself to stop because of the curiosity. He knew something was happening, and while he would normally be freaked out by his body feeling those things so out of his control, he was certain of the knowledge that he actually was somehow in control of this. He felt his soul and attention be tugged towards something outside his current field of awareness, and then suddenly the ground was shifting. He was no longer in the room, instead he was somewhere else seeing shapes in pulses- the palest blue to shimmering gold and dark reds, and everything in between. It slowly faded to normal sight, even though he still felt like his eyes were closed, and he was below the room he'd been in and was now in the bar. They were all there, everyone he'd seen when he had first arrived, but they all carried on as if he wasn't there. He looked outside of the bar onto the streets, nearly deserted at this time of the night, but a glowing white caught his attention. Curious as to what the energy was, he followed it. Well, he didn't exactly walk out the door and follow it like normal, he was just suddenly there outside, close enough to see what exactly it was. It faded to a normal woman much like the others had, heels clacking as she walked briskly towards her destination.

Something tugged at his senses again and he turned around, another white energy shaping to be a human. And another, about a block away.

"So this must be how you locate energies," Fushimi muttered to himself. "But something doesn't feel right..."

A sudden pulse, from behind him coming quick. He turned around, a black energy approaching from down the street. He blinked a few times, and it soon faded into a shape just like everyone else. But this shape was different. It wasn't that of a human, it looked like...

Smoke.

Fushimi gasped sharply, fumbling instinctively for a knife that wasn't there. He crossed his arms over his face just as it crashed into him- well, through him. It kept going, leaving behind the taste of sulfur and a cold shiver up his spine. "What the hell?" he asked himself, slightly breathless. No one noticed his presence, and they didn't seem to notice the black smoke either. If that demon, which Fushimi was certain now was a demon, wasn't bothering people, it must be searching for a vessel.

_'My body,'_ Fushimi thought, a rush of panic and adrenaline going through him instantly. It was the perfect vessel for a demon, a body with no soul to fight it or annoy it. Just a free meatsuit up for grabs. "Shit!"

Suddenly, he felt the world shifting around him, like he was being yanked out of it. He snapped back into his body like a rubber band, gasping loudly and falling onto his back on the floor. He saw Kusanagi looking down at him before he was yanked up, Yata's hand gripping his tightly. A little too tightly.

"Let go!" Fushimi snapped instinctively, yanking his hand back. He hadn't quite recovered yet, a slight shake in his hands and an uncomfortable shudder racing down his spine.

"You almost got possessed, didn't you?" Yata scoffed. "That's what you get for doing astral projection."

"It's not like I knew I was doing it," Fushimi replied testily. "I've never done it before, how am I supposed to know when I'm doing it?"

"Well, that's what it feels like," Kusanagi chided. "When you're sensing, locating, and identifying energies, you don't leave your own body. If you do, you need to get back as fast as you can. Astral projection is too dangerous for a beginner at magic, even if you are powerful. Honestly, that's the only reason you're able to do such a complicated move in the first place."

"Right," Fushimi murmured. "The hard way, then."

He ignored the muttered, "Astral projection is easy?" from Yata and closed his eyes, sighing heavily and focusing again. The pulses never took shape, but he could identify them now. The orange was a familiar (whatever the hell that was supposed to be), the silver were witches, and the black were demons. The white seemed to be regular humans, and they didn't have as much heat to them. He didn't leave his body, but all boundaries like walls seemed to disappear, and he still knew where they were. He placed his hand on the edge of the map automatically and ran his index and middle fingers along where the pulses needed to be without even opening his eyes. He felt his sleeve move by itself, and felt an immediate spike in tension in the room. Yata had moved closer, the orange light almost suffocating with its heat, but it felt... nice, to have it near him. In a way.

Suddenly, a bright red pulse stuck out, just a few blocks away, following a white pulse. He snapped his eyes open just in time to see his knife, previously floating just above the map, stabbing into the thin paper and the table below with a loud thunk. The place on the map with his knife sticking out was exactly where the red pulse had been. "I found something."

"No shit," Yata growled. "Don't be waving that knife around again, I thought you were gonna attack us."

"I didn't really ask it to, it just did it," Fushimi snapped, then directed his attention to Kusanagi. "There's an energy south of here, three and a half blocks away. It's.. I'm not sure what it is, but it's not good."

"We'll work on your identifying later," Kusanagi brushed off. "Good job, though. Now, see if you can search further, like-"

"Wait, what about the thing I found?" Fushimi asked, frowning irritably. "It was following a human."

Kusanagi sighed in exasperation. "You're not going to drop this, are you?" He looked over at Mikoto, who nodded slowly. "Fine. You can go after it if you wish, I know how you Blues are. You've learned enough for today."

"Finally," Fushimi murmured to himself, standing up and brushing himself off. He grabbed the hilt of his knife, yanking it out of the table and off the map.

"Oh Yata-chan, would you care to go with him?" Kusanagi grinned impishly. "It is our territory, after all. It needs to be exterminated for hunting here."

Yata groaned loudly. "Seriously? I have to go with him? Why can't Kamamoto or someone else go?"

"Yata," Mikoto spoke suddenly. "Go with the witch. Keep in contact."

Yata quieted down instantly and nodded, closing his eyes and reaching out for the bond. It was only the surface, barely anything to connect them; a depressingly small amount compared to what it used to be. "Okay."

Fushimi tried not to seem like he was watching, the slightest narrowing of his eyes the only indication. There was a connection there, definitely, but he wasn't sure about the details- how deep did it go? What could they do with it?

"Let's get going then," Yata grinned, cracking his knuckles and going over to the corner. "Whatever it is, this'll come in handy."

"What's a bat gonna do?" Fushimi scoffed as Yata picked up the shiny, slightly dented baseball bat.

"A bat that's got silver lining?" Yata chuckled, slinging it up to rest over his shoulder. "Silver's always a good choice when you're going up against something unknown, right?"

Fushimi hummed thoughtfully as he headed for the door, twirling his knife skillfully between his fingers and hearing Yata follow him. The chatter of the bar stopped when he came down the stairs, all sets of eyes on him as he walked briskly to the door.

"Hold up, where are we even going?" Yata asked as he rushed after Fushimi, catching him at the door.

"Not far south from here," he responded, pushing it open and walking out into the warm summer evening. The air was still damp, lightly foggy from the humidity. The streets were nearly deserted at this time of night, street lamps lighting the otherwise darkened roads and sidewalks. He turned left and started walking, pulling up his gps on his PDA. "This way," he pointed once Yata caught up to his left side, pointing to a spot that looked like an alley. "Heading away from the street."

"Deeper in towards the bar," Yata said. Upon seeing Fushimi's raised eyebrow, Yata rolled his eyes and explained further. "That building in the back is a shitty little bar, really seedy. Run by some werewolves a while back."

Fushimi's other eyebrow rose. He wasn't used to being out of the loop when it came to the monsters in his city. Especially monsters with liquor licenses. He really needed to look into that. "Past tense?"

"Yeah," Yata grinned wolfishly, his fangs sharp and glinting in the low light. "Only room for one supernatural bar in this city. Especially on our turf."

"So monsters are only unacceptable when they're stepping on your toes," Fushimi said dryly, turning a corner suddenly and smirking in satisfaction when Yata stumbled after him, nearly continuing forward despite the changing course.

"Hey! Say what you want about me, but leave my coven out of it," Yata snapped. "We handle our shit in our territory because that's what we demanded in the treaty all those years ago." Fushimi couldn't help but grind his teeth together at the mention of that damned treaty. There was still no explanation from Munakata, and while he had been kind of avoiding his captain, he was still angry about being kept in the dark on such a huge secret for such a long time. A secret that was only kept from him, of course. "It works. We kill just like you, but the difference is: we kill only the bad ones. There's good in everything, not just in humans."

"For what it's worth, I don't think humans are that much better," Fushimi muttered sourly, the image of fancy dresses and pearls around a slim neck and cold eyes springing forth in his mind.

"Humans are pretty weird," Yata shrugged. It was really starting to irritate Fushimi that he was trying to make conversation like they were buddies. As far as Fushimi was concerned, he had been kidnapped by this guy's demon friend and didn't owe anyone a damn thing (other than Kusanagi, who had convinced Fushimi to make a deal with him and what the hell had he been thinking again?). Unfortunately, his silence somehow made Yata feel like he had to keep going. "Definitely a lot of horrible humans out there. But there's a lot of good, too. Just like some other supernatural creatures. There's good and there's bad."

"Congratulations, you know your opposite words," Fushimi said dryly, not even looking up from his PDA. "Want a treat?"

"I'm not a dog!" Yata snapped, his voice grating.

Why had Fushimi engaged him? What happened to just ignoring him?

(Fushimi realized, in that exact moment, that he hated every decision he'd ever made. Ever.)

(Time to make some new ones.)

Fushimi suddenly stopped, causing Yata to huff. "Why are we stopping?"

"This is where it was," Fushimi muttered. "Not anymore."

"I told you, it was probably heading for the bar," Yata said, grabbing Fushimi's wrist. "Come on, you're being too slow, we're gonna lose it."

"I'm being cautious," Fushimi snapped, yanking his hand back. "We can't just run straight in, there's too many unknown variables. I don't know about you, but I'm not liking the odds of multiple unknown supernatural beings turning on us if we go busting in. We need information, and we need a plan. I needed to get closer to the bar to know just how many energies are in there, and now I know." Yata bared his teeth at him, but he knew that Fushimi was making sense. Even if it was a hassle.

"And if you don't quit touching me, I'll cut your fingers off," Fushimi warned darkly, turning around and heading back towards the street.

"And where are you going, huh?" Yata shouted, jogging after him. "Surely you're not just gonna back out because you're scared!"

"Of course not," Fushimi said sharply. "There's people in there. Humans. I can feel them. And my job is to protect humans. There's four energies that aren't human, four things that we know nothing about. The best option isn't to just run in there and attack, we need _information_ ," he repeated, wondering just how many times he would have to in order for the familiar to finally get it.

"Infiltration," Yata said suddenly. "Right?"

"Right," Fushimi said, turning back around and rolling his eyes. Finally, he didn't have to explain everything, just like he had to do at work. Most of the people, anyway, his squad were idiots but not completely stupid. "And I can't just go in there with this uniform on, they'll know I'm a hunter."

Fushimi lead him down the street to a clothing store. It was a small store, thankfully not the kind that took in used clothes because Fushimi would rather have stayed in his uniform than do that. He handed a knife to Yata, extending the handle out to him and ignoring the incredulous look. "Pick the lock."

"What, can't do it?" Yata taunted, yanking the knife out of Fushimi's hand but being careful not to cut him. "Or just trying to get me in trouble? Don't wanna do the dirty work yourself?"

"Shut up, I'm concentrating," Fushimi said, rolling his eyes and typing on his PDA as Yata crouched down to start working on the old-fashioned lock and set his bat down. "You pick the lock, I hack into the security system to shut off the alarms, that way we don't get caught and have to deal with the stupid patrolmen who don't know anything. It's quicker this way, unless you know how to shut down the alarms."

"That's. Actually really smart," Yata complimented, giving Fushimi a grin. "You act all high and mighty but you're pretty crafty, you know."

"I know all the tricks," Fushimi drawled dryly, closing off his PDA. "Security's down for the next twenty minutes. We'll find something and change, then we need to go back and pretend to be patrons. Get the layout, get an eye on whatever's in there. Then we'll figure out how to get the humans out before we engage." His brain was already working a mile a minute, plans becoming more detailed as he prepared for any and all possible outcomes.

"You're going through a lot just to keep some meat safe," Yata muttered, intentionally referring to the humans as 'meat' to try and rile Fushimi up.

It didn't work as well as he thought it would. "They're humans. It's my job to protect them."

"It's just funny to see a guy who spends so much time convincing himself and others that he doesn't care go through so much grief to keep some humans safe." Yata stood back up, opening the door and handing Fushimi his knife back with a smirk. "Don't you think?"

Fushimi glared at him and brushed past him, opening the door to the store and going in. Yata's insight wasn't needed or appreciated, as far as Fushimi was concerned. "Just get dressed."

"What?" Yata frowned. "Why do I have to change?"

"I'm assuming they'll know of you. It is your turf," Fushimi shrugged. "They might even recognize you. It's best to stay safe. Or, you can just wait outside."

"Hey, I'm not some dog you can just tie up on a lamp post!" Yata shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the store as he clenched his fists. "I'm going inside."

"Great," the hunter said sarcastically. "Then get. Dressed."

Yata growled softly and stalked off, heading towards the t-shirts and cargo shorts. Fushimi decided against that, grabbing a slim white tank top and a blue plaid long sleeved shirt to wear over it. Black slim jeans were next, after he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so he could reach his knives easier. Making sure his harness was in place, he put his boots back on and folded his still damp clothes. Thank god, these clothes were warm and dry. He combed through his hair a little bit, grabbing some Bobby pins by the front counter to pull his slightly damp hair back, the rain from earlier sabotaging his usual hairstyle. He needed to see properly for when the fighting came.

"Are you seriously pinning your hair back like a girl?" Yata snorted, tucking his orange hair into his beanie. He was in a black tank top and light colored cargo shorts. "Get a haircut."

"Shut up," he huffed, glancing to Yata's arm that he had injured and frowning when he didn't even see a scar. "What happened to your arm?"

"It healed. Anna patched me up with a spell," he said proudly. "Why is yours still fresh? That was a while ago."

"Scabs came off, it reopened on a hunt," Fushimi lied. Honestly, he had just been picking at it excessively. He'd never been too good at leaving injuries alone. "I don't have someone to magically heal me. Now come on, let's go."

"You could heal yourself," Yata suggested like it should be obvious, grabbing his wadded up clothes and walking out after Fushimi.

"Don't know how," Fushimi shrugged. "Haven't learned that spell, and I don't really want to."

Yata rolled his eyes. "Please, Fushimi's don't learn. They just _do_. You've just never tried."

"I never had a _reason_ to try. Can we stop talking about it?" Fushimi found the driest place on the ground a little outside of the bar and set his folded clothes there, sighing quietly and leaving his sword there as well. He kind of liked Subaru, it was a shame to leave it outside on the dirty ground. He stuck his gun in his waistband, covering it with his plaid shirt easily so it was at least slightly hidden. "Now let's go inside."

"Fine," Yata muttered, grabbing his necklace. It shined a deep red for a moment, Yata muttering under his breath. The bat beside of him disappeared, causing Fushimi to raise an eyebrow. "Mikoto-san's magic."

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning and walking towards the bar without a word. Even if he didn't like magic, didn't like being a witch, he couldn't deny the pure _convenience_ of being able to cast spells. It was almost a thought he could entertain, being a full-fledged witch. Was it his morals stopping him? He didn't have that many, and he'd never had a problem doing immoral things if it could help in a fight and keep him alive a bit longer. No, not his morals.

He already had enough in common with his father before this. It was just another reminder of how doomed he was to eventually become the thing he most hated. _'Heh, in a way I already am,'_ Fushimi thought to himself, lips pressing together thinly as he thought about how _good_ it felt earlier using magic.

Yata caught up to him just as he was reaching the door, tucking his necklace underneath his tank top. It was the first time Fushimi had seen him without it proudly displayed. It was almost entertaining, but was honestly more disgusting than anything.

They opened the door to find a rundown bar that smelled like cheap beer and cigarettes. There were only a few humans scattered about, six in total, but Fushimi slyly calculated the positions of the supernatural as he and Yata took a seat in a corner booth: the bartender, the waitress, and two patrons sitting by the bar. They were all interacting in some way, talking familiarly and laughing.

"Great, they know each other," Fushimi muttered. Turns out the werewolves were back for the bar.

"It's a vampire pack," Yata whispered, his nose twitching slightly. Well, so much for it being the werewolves again. Fushimi found it odd that the familiar couldn't identify them earlier as they were approaching the bar. Perhaps they were cloaking their scent somehow? Or maybe Yata's nose wasn't as good as he said? "Alpha's the bartender. They're talking about expanding their pack... And their territory."

"Of course," Fushimi huffed, taking out his PDA. "That's all vampires are ever interested in."

"Mhm," Yata hummed quietly in agreement, crinkling his nose when the waitress came over and bat her eyes at them. "What can I get you two to drink?" she grinned.

"Gimme whatever's on tap," Yata said dismissively with red cheeks and averted eyes, not particularly picky about what he drank. He didn't plan on drinking much anyway, it was only to maintain cover until they made their move.

Fushimi's lip quirked, glancing up from his PDA to look the young fake blonde in the eye. "Bloody Mary, steep. And leave out the celery."

She gave him a sharp grin. Really, vampires were so obvious. "Excellent choice.."

After she left, Yata snickered and grinned at the hunter. When this guy wasn't being an asshole, they got along surprisingly well. "You're also a comedian?"

"It's too easy to mess with vampires," he shrugged, but he couldn't hide the spiteful smile forming on his lips. "They love puns and play-on-words, especially when it has to do with blood. She'll tell them to make me their target for turning, they'll lure me outside and then the civilians won't be in as much danger."

"Using yourself as bait though?" Yata asked uncertainly, glancing over at the vampires discreetly. They were openly looking at Fushimi and talking amongst themselves, and sure enough it was about a plan to turn Fushimi. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"It's effective. And quick." Fushimi glanced up at him, tucking his PDA back into his pocket. "I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to hurry, I've got other things to do."

"Right," the familiar muttered. "If you say so. I'll follow you out and help you take them down-"

"No," Fushimi said harshly. "They'll only send one, two max, outside with me. They won't be expecting a fight. You need to stay in here with the others for when things go south. When I blow our cover, they may try a hostage situation with everyone in here, or just slaughter them all for blood. That's when you step in."

"Divide and conquer usually does work with vampire packs," Yata said thoughtfully, but he was still frowning. "Are you sure you can handle two vampires?"

"You'd do best not to underestimate me," Fushimi smirked. "It's what got you a knife wound the last time."

Yata snarled at him, slamming his fist down on the table just as the waitress came back. "If you're gonna fight, take it outside, boys," she warned, setting Yata's beer glass on the table with a sharp clunk and causing Yata to blush in embarrassment and shame. She turned to Fushimi with a smile, setting his slim red glass delicately on the dark wooden table. "Or, we could go outside for a different reason," she purred with a seductive smile.

"Not that interested, sorry," Fushimi drawled, sounding entirely dismissive and every bit not sorry. "But the bartender's cute.."

Yata looked at him in surprise, as did the waitress. "O-Oh, well, I'll see what I can do," she stammered, looking downright pissy as she turned on her heel and went back to the group.

"You're gay?" Yata whispered loudly, looking at him with wide gold eyes.

"Doesn't matter," Fushimi said, sounding bored. "Their usual tactic is to lure with the girl. Their plan will be changed short notice and it will be sloppier because of the lack of preparation time. Besides, now I can take out the alpha.."

"I wanted to take out the alpha," Yata _totally_ didn't pout, crossing his arms and knocking his foot against the invisible bat under the table.

"Sorry, too late to change plans," Fushimi smirked. "We'd be scrambling like them. I don't scramble."

"Course not.." Yata stared at the hunter as he looked at his Bloody Mary in disgust, accessing his bond with Mikoto. **_'This guy's really smart, Mikoto-san...'_**

_**'He's a Fushumi,'**_ the reply came back, clear as day. **_'Izumo says to pay attention to the way he fights, since you didn't pay attention last time.'_**

_**'Fine.'**_ Fushimi really was a force to be reckoned with, Yata had to give him that. He was smart and cunning, and adaptable, and flexible.. He really did look flexible physically, now that Yata was paying attention. And he was right about the bait plan; he looked like he could be a vampire's victim for turning, with that pale skin and those intense eyes. They'd probably turn red as he feeds, so they would look even more intense-

**_'If you're that thirsty, there's a beer right in front of you,'_** Mikoto suddenly spoke up through the bond, amusement in his deep voice.

Yata choked on a cough, grabbing his beer glass and downing a big gulp. Fushimi looked at him curiously, a slim eyebrow raised. "What's got you so worked up?"

"So this plan, how long until it goes down?" Yata blurted out, thankfully quietly, but enough to get a warning glare from Fushimi. He was not just thinking all that about this hunter, this traitor. His cheeks were burning in embarrassment at his thoughts, nails scraping the uncomfortable cushion to the booth.

"Any minute now," Fushimi replied, waving Yata's strange behavior off as him just being strange. "The alpha's just getting the plan straight, since it's last minute."

"Just.. Be careful, okay? You're still useful to my coven, so don't go and get yourself killed so soon," Yata growled threateningly.

Fushimi rolled his eyes. "Stop being so worried, I told you I can handle myself."

"Whatever, you just look like a twig, is all I'm saying," Yata scoffed.

"And yet I still kicked your ass," Fushimi smirked, his face dropping into a more serious expression before Yata could reply. "He's coming."

Yata frowned and looked up as the bartender approached, barely suppressing the urge to snarl at the bloody, bloated carcass scent of a vampire. The man was a little taller than both of them, with short spiky hair and long bangs hanging to cover his rust looking eyes. "So you've got a type, huh?" the man chuckled, grinning at Fushimi.

"That's certainly one way to phrase it," Fushimi said dryly. He wasn't even sure if it was worth the effort to try too hard with his act- this guy seemed to think more with his dick than he did with his brain, which was perfectly fine with Fushimi. It gave him the chance to take advantage of him for it.

"If you'd like to step outside, I'd love to show you what I have to offer.." He trailed off, sending the hunter a lecherous grin. "If that's alright with you, of course."

"Of course," Fushimi drawled, standing up and glancing back at Yata. "Stay," he commanded like Yata was a dog, causing the familiar to narrow his eyes and the bartender to look incredibly amused. "And don't do anything too stupid."

"You're the one that's being stupid," Yata shot back as they went towards the back door, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. Fushimi's sword, which was the only weapon he had for decapitation, was out the front entrance, but Yata supposed he'd be alright since there was only one vampire leaving with him.

Fushimi noticed the same thing, frowning in dissatisfaction but following the vampire anyway. Expected, because of the implications of what they would be doing outside, but still disappointing.

"Aw, why the sad face?" the bartender asked, shutting the door behind them. "If you give me the chance, I'm sure I could make you happy.."

Fushimi barely suppressed a snort, letting a knife drop into his left hand once they were far enough away from the door that he didn't have to worry about unexpected visitors. "I doubt it. You're not my type and you're definitely not getting lucky tonight."

The bartender noticed the blade and grinned, teeth sharpening just slightly enough to intimidate. He didn't reveal his full set yet. "I think you'll be sorely mistaken if you try to use that on me."

"No, this blade isn't long or sharp enough to take your head off," Fushimi drawled casually, holding his PDA and letting the hologram of Scepter 4's symbol appear. "But I know exactly what you are and how to kill you."

The vampire's face twisted into a snarl, his razor sharp teeth appearing out of his gums. "Hunter!"

Fushimi just continued smirking as he turned off his PDA, tossing the knife with a quick wave of his hand. The vampire dodged, coming forward with a snarl.

_'Finally,'_ Fushimi thought, adrenaline pumping through his veins. One thing he was extremely good at was fighting, and it was nice to sometimes lose himself and his worries in a battle. He'd been so stressed lately with digging up information that he forgot how nice and relaxing a one-on-one fight was to ease his stress. He hadn't had a challenging opponent since Yata..

The alpha lunged forward, all teeth and raw strength. Fushimi jumped back out of reach, stepping to the left and tossing another knife at the vampire. It embedded into the soft skin of his inner elbow, but barely slowed him down. Fushimi expected as much. He only did it to buy himself some time, trying to disable him and slow him down enough so that he could head towards his sword, which was the only thing he had handy for decapitation. If only he'd known he would be up against vampires, he would have left Subaru in a more convenient place. Hindsight was often a bitch, but she ruined no one's life better than Fushimi's.

The hunter dropped three more knives into his hand, sharp eyes roaming around his surroundings. The knives obviously weren't going to slow him down much, so the next best thing he could do was throw his razor sharp knives up to the fire escape and hope they were sharp enough. He received his answer when the rusted metal snapped and sent the heavy ladder flying down.

Fushimi took off as the metal clattered against the ground in the vampire's path and smacked right into his head, unholstering his gun as he ran back towards the bar. It unfortunately didn't decapitate the alpha, but it would at least slow him down.

"What, need your friend's help?" he shouted, the sound of footsteps in pursuit coming shortly after. Fushimi rolled his eyes, focusing on circling around the building towards the front and not on the commotion that had erupted in the bar. No, he didn't need Yata, thank you very much. Yata was plenty busy dealing with his own battle. He just needed to get to Subaru. Grabbing the gun from his waistband, he glanced back long enough to get a shot, shooting the vampire perfectly between the eyes. He only growled, stumbling just barely with a hand to his bleeding forehead before regaining his footing again. "You're gonna have to do better than that, hunter!"

The dumpster that he'd hidden his sword and clothes by came into sight, but when he was about ten feet away, he was stopped by a strong grip on his left wrist that nearly took his arm off when he was yanked back. He was spun around to face the taller creature, his right bicep now under the same grip as his left wrist. The vampire was leering at him, causing Fushimi to glare as he subtly tried to loosen a knife enough from its harness so it would fall and he could use it. He didn't struggle, just pretended to as he worked on getting his knife, because he knew his human strength wasn't enough to break free on its own. It would just waste his energy, energy that he would need.

"Gotcha," the vampire grinned, teeth glistening in the low light of the alley. "You put up more of a fight than a lot of others I've lured out here, including hunters. You'd make a wonderful addition to my pack.."

"Not interested," Fushimi snarled, eyes widening and mouth snapping shut when the vampire bit his own wrist and held it towards Fushimi's mouth. Fushimi leaned away, gritting his teeth to hold back a gasp of pain when his hair was pulled and his head was tilted back as a result. The vampire had to let go of his arms to do so, one hand with the painful grip on his hair and the other arm wrapped around his waist to trap him against the monster's body. He closed his eyes and tried to jerk out of his grasp, desperate not to let the blood ooze passed his lips, but it was no use. The vampire was too strong and he was only a human-

Wait.

_'Fushimi's don't learn, they just **do**.'_

Just as the creature's blood fell, Fushimi's eyes snapped open glowing an electric blue, and the blood stopped moving mid-fall. He couldn't help but smirk at the vampire's look of surprise, and just barely flicked his wrist. The bartender went flying, colliding hard into the alley wall.

Fushimi felt the power beneath his skin, deeper than his bones, the energy crackling within him and wanting to escape. It was a feeling unlike any other he had experienced before. This wasn't anything like astral projection, or trying to locate energies. This was pure power, and it was sending delightful shivers down his spine to be able to use it. Oddly enough, his father was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. All the previous thoughts about being a witch like him, all worries of turning into him, disappeared into the magically charged air.

Yata came running out of the bar around that time, spotting Fushimi and the vampire immediately. He slowed to a stop when he saw what was going on, blinking his eyes in shock at the heavy scent of magic in the air. He felt the distant tugging of Mikoto's presence in the back of his mind, but most of his attention was on the electric honey scent covering every inch of the area. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand, his muscles tensed at the familiar feeling of danger and excitement. He had just fought three vampires and was already wanting to help with the fourth, but he held himself back when he remembered that he was supposed to be watching how the witch fought. If he could keep up with Yata, he could handle a vampire. And if not, Yata would be here.

The vampire regained his senses, running towards Fushimi quickly in a charge. Yata was beginning to wonder if Fushimi was going to dodge; he was just standing there, shoulders and muscles completely relaxed. "Hey, move!" he shouted, ready to spring to Fushimi's rescue, that stupid monkey..

Yata and the vampire were both surprised when Fushimi flickered out of existence, appearing just as quickly directly behind the still charging- and slightly off-balance- alpha. Now that Fushimi was facing Yata, the familiar saw how his irises were glowing an intense blue, staring directly into his eyes. It was startlingly similar to the look he'd given him when they were battling each other the first time, and Yata was on the ground with a knife in his arm and a sword at his throat.

But that killer gaze was now being directed at the vampire, who was whirling around with a loud snarl. "What's a witch like you doing hunting for Scepter 4?!"

Fushimi held his hand out, his sword unsheathing and appearing without him having to even think of it. Subaru's gold handle fit perfectly around his palm, and the weight of the metal and silver was comforting. He didn't answer the tall vampire, instead raising the smooth blade vertically into Scepter 4's salute. "In the name of Scepter 4, I banish you from this city and existence, for your cause is evil.."

The vampire laughed and charged forward again, intent on ending the fight once and for all.

He was beaten to it as Fushimi appeared behind him at the last second again and neatly sliced through the bone and flesh of the vampire's throat. As the body and severed head fell to the ground, he smirked and continued. "And ours is pure..."

Yata swallowed thickly, his grip tightening on his bat as Fushimi's eyes continued to glow, watching the stationary body on the ground in satisfied victory. **_'Mikoto-san..'_**

He heard Mikoto hum, a deep and thoughtful sound echoing in his head. **_'He's powerful.'_**

**_'He didn't even say a single spell, I've only seen you do that, Mikoto-san. Maybe a few others, but still. He really must be..'_** Yata trailed off as Fushimi's grip on Subaru suddenly slackened and his eyes slid closed, the electric blue glow of his irises fading. His sword clattered to the ground, and his knees gave out. Yata dropped his own weapon in order to rush forward quickly to catch him before he hit the ground, his arms wrapped around the skinny witch. He had a few droplets of the alpha's disgusting-smelling blood on his cheek, so Yata crinkled his nose and used part of his tank top (that wasn't already covered in blood by the three vampires he had fought) to wipe the blood off of the hunter's pale skin.

**_'Bring him home,'_** Mikoto told him. **_'Keep a few knives.'_**

**_'What about the sword?'_** Yata responded quietly, not taking his eyes off of the exhausted hunter.

**_'Don't bother. Sword's enchanted. No way you're touching that without losing fingers.'_ **

Yata grimaced. Great, that should go over well with Fushimi. Leaving his precious sword alone in an alley. He might lose a few fingers just for that, screw the damn sword doing anything. **_'He's not gonna be happy.'_**

**_'And he was before?'_ **

**_'Good point.'_ **

Yata set Fushimi's head gently on the ground, standing slowly and setting his mind to gathering the scattered knives from the fight. He pocketed a few, putting the rest with Fushimi's clothes. He wrapped his old clothes and Fushimi's in his red sweater, tying the sleeves around his shoulder as a makeshift, very unsteady bag. After he was half-satisfied with their things, and more than a little regretful of having to leave his bat there with the sword, he went back to Fushimi's still unconscious side. He gathered Fushimi into his arms, narrowing his eyes at how little the hunter weighed. His knees and back were bony in his arms, and his ribs jabbed into Yata's chest as he carried him through the backstreets and alleys. **_'He feels like he hasn't eaten in months,'_** Yata said to Mikoto quietly. **_'Do those damn Blues not feed their employees?'_**

Mikoto didn't reply, but Yata didn't really expect him to. He seemed distracted, probably falling asleep or talking to Kusanagi about what had happened.

On the short walk home, Yata couldn't help but look down at the witch in his arms and reflect on what happened. He was astounded at the power Fushimi had, raw strength with his magic. If he were properly trained.. Well, there wasn't much that could stop him.

The only way he could enhance his power after training is to find a familiar, and Yata had a feeling that he would be near unstoppable if that happened.

Fushimi's bangs were still pulled back by bobby pins, so his angular face was on full display. His lashes were long and thick against his cheeks, thin lips parted slightly in his unconscious state. His temple was pressed against Yata's shoulder, and his glasses were starting to dig into his collarbone. His arms were beginning to get a little tired, too. But as he continued looking down at the hunter's pale face, letting his nose lead him the rest of the way home, he couldn't bring himself to care much about it. There was just something about Fushimi that made Yata want to get to know him better, to understand why he acted and responded to things and situations the way he did. He was one of the weirdest people Yata had met, which was saying something. He'd been around for a couple of hundred years, had met a lot of people. Not a one of them was like Fushimi. Sure, the hunter infuriated him to no end, and he definitely wasn't over all the shit that had gone down between them. But Yata had a feeling that things wouldn't always be like that between them, no matter how hard it was to see that happening at the moment.

_**'Someone's got a crush.'** _

Of course, Mikoto decided to chime back in around this time. Yata blushed deeply and felt a frustrated growl building in his throat, but stopped when Fushimi shifted slightly in his arms at the noise. As much as the hunter was a complete and utter asshole, Yata wanted him to get the rest he needed after exerting so much energy. **_'Shut up, Mikoto-san, I do not! He aggravates the hell out of me..'_**

**_'Mm.'_ **

Yata rolled his eyes. He could tell that Mikoto wasn't convinced, and quite amused by the situation, so he shut the connection off. They were almost back to the bar anyway, so he knew Mikoto wouldn't be mad about it.

Yata also didn't get why everyone was always talking about how he had a crush on the witch. He hated the Blue, as he hated all Blues, but this one especially. All thought of future friendship aside, he'd never met someone who got on his nerves so much, worked him up to the point of violence- which wasn't hard to do, admittedly, since Yata was always ready to rip someone's head off, but even with other people it was never _this bad_ for _this long_ \- and pissed him off with his stupid scent. It had been bothering him all night, honestly. Perhaps a spell that was timed? But there wasn't much of a pattern, other than not being able to smell his scent at Scepter 4... While Fushimi was fighting with his magic, it had changed drastically as every witch's scent does during battle. For someone's scent to fluctuate between 'there' and 'not there', it just wasn't natural. Barely even supernatural, with how weird the timing was. Should he ask Kusanagi about it? Mikoto hadn't seemed all that concerned when Yata had brought it up to him, but maybe Kusanagi knew about it and was willing to tell him.

Yeah, right. Yata couldn't help but scoff audibly, though not too loudly. Like Kusanagi would ever tell anybody anything unless it was part of his plan and benefited him, or if he was forced. And there wasn't much you could force Kusanagi to do.

So that was out. Talking to the witch was always a bother, and he apparently didn't even know why his own scent was like that.

Speaking of Fushimi's scent, it was growing stale. What normally smelled like someone fading from existence was actually just the scent going into hiding again, for some reason. Was it because he was unconscious and exhausted? Or something else? He definitely wasn't dying, his abdomen slowly rising and falling with each steady breath he took. Yata furrowed his brows, lips turning down in a frown. He was definitely asking Kusanagi about it, screw whether the demon would answer him or not.

His thoughts were interrupted by his arrival at the bar, Kamamoto already holding the door open for him with a soft grin. Yata scowled at the look, knowing it was because of how he was cradling Fushimi to his chest, and managed to kick the rugaru in the shin as he was passing. Smirking at his yelp, and relieved that no other Homra members were in the bar to see this, he made his way up the stairs before Kamamoto could retaliate, Anna opening the King's door for him just as Kamamoto had opened the downstairs door. She exited the room instead of joining them, her eyelids lowered sleepily as she headed to bed with a quiet goodnight. Mikoto was sitting on the couch, perpetual cigarette held between his lips and burning slowly, and Kusanagi was leaning against the far wall nursing a glass of Aces. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a chair that Mikoto frequently lazed around in and the table, so Yata just laid Fushimi down on the couch by the older witch. In order for there to be room for his legs, his head was in Mikoto's lap.

At Kusanagi's glance, Mikoto snorted and blew out a plume of smoke. "I'm not getting up."

Kusanagi rolled his eyes, taking a sip. "Of course." Turning his attention to Yata, he grinned. "Good job out there today. He didn't disappoint, did he?"

"I fought him before, though," Yata said. "He didn't pull any fancy tricks like he did tonight."

"It's natural for Saru-chan to use magic now," Kusanagi stated. "He didn't know he was a witch when you two fought, first of all. Second, he hasn't been casting any spells- that we know about, anyway- until _tonight_."

Yata blinked as the realization hit him. "He's just now using his power. And from where there's been so much built up and not used, it's wanting to escape."

"Exactly," Kusanagi praised, pride entering his smile. "Even if he doesn't want to use it, it will find a way out one way or another.. Poor thing. He's exhausted himself with it."

"You sound awful chipper," Mikoto mumbled.

"He's shown all his aces tonight," the demon explained, raising the glass of appropriately-named wine to his lips for another delicate sip. "Yata-chan's observations were just what I needed, thank you for sharing his vision with me." Yata looked over at Mikoto, surprised that the witch had let Kusanagi in on their bond enough to see what they were both seeing. Nothing Mikoto was doing made sense to him anymore..

Kusanagi continued. "He's got a lot of power, sure. But it's useless against anything smarter and stronger than that vampire. He's only just stretching his wings, and what weak little things they are."

Yata looked back down at the still unconscious hunter as he slept, blissfully unaware of the demon calculating his disadvantages. Kusanagi was right, of course. In the end, Fushimi was a Blue. _'Traitor,'_ his mind helpfully supplied him. Yata had lost some friends to that organization; friends who made stupid decisions, sure, but certainly not evil. Fushimi was pretty stubborn, and didn't seem to want to think of supernatural beings as anything close to "good". He just seemed so set in his ways...

Yata wasn't completely sure what he felt regarding the hunter anymore.

The image of Fushimi with red eyes popped into his head again without preamble, and Yata couldn't help but frown as he thought- with absolute certainty- that Fushimi looked better in blue anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yata's got a cruuuuuuush~
> 
> Again, sorry for the late chapter. I hope the length and the deepening of the plot makes up for it.
> 
> I'll try to be more active on Twitter and Tumblr, sorry if I haven't answered any asks or been active lately. Shit's been a little rough financially and with my health, but I'm getting my writing inspiration back somehow and my health has taken a turn for the better. I'm really excited for what's to come, I hope you all are, too :)
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed! If you have any questions, message me on Twitter (@mama_kusanagi) or Tumblr (anonymous-bush) if you'd like!


	7. Secrets (And the Uncomfortable Talks with Mom and Dad They Cause)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not so secret anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some answers, don't ya think?
> 
> This chapter didn't really go as planned, but I kind of like it. Either way, my outline needs some SERIOUS work after this. I hate writing inebriated.
> 
> The italics are Kusanagi and Fushimi having their long awaited heart-to-heart. We get a little, tiiiiiiny little backstory to Kusanagi and why he's so complex (and fucking difficult to write Jesus Christ why did I do this??). Oh yeah, Fushimi also talks to Munakata this chapter, about time.
> 
> Can I change the summary to "uncomfortable talks with Mom and Dad?" Oh I can? Perfect.

There was a creeping numbness in his veins as Fushimi slowly woke up, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes like a wildfire. His muscles were screaming at him and every limb was limp with exhaustion the likes of which he'd never felt before. His head was pounding, pressure forming deep in his skull and making his whole head throb with pain. There was a crick in his neck, probably from the odd angle that his head was at...

Wait, what was he laying on?

No matter how much his body begged him to keep his eyes closed, he ended up squinting them open anyway. The image above him was blurry at first, but he blinked a few times and could suddenly see normally again.

He kind of wished that he hadn't.

Suoh Mikoto was peering down at him, eyelids lowered lazily as he observed the smaller witch laying in his lap. There was a beat of silence, the two witches staring at each other, before Fushimi sprung up rapidly. His head spun and his stomach rolled with nausea at the movement, sending him flopping right back into Mikoto's lap. "Wha..?"

"You might not want to move," an amused voice came from behind the couch. It sounded like Kusanagi, and it sounded like Kusanagi was smirking. Bastard. "You're too weak."

"The hell I am," Fushimi muttered to himself, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks as he slowly rose into a sitting position. He ignored Mikoto's eyes and instead let his own wander around the room. The demon was just finishing a glass of wine, leaning against the wall that faced the exit. Anna wasn't there anymore, but it must have been pretty late so Fushimi didn't think much of it.

His eyes met Yata's, and he couldn't help but pause at the sight of the familiar. Yata was sitting on the floor beneath the couch, back to the black alter where Fushimi had sat hours before performing his first spell. He looked startlingly like the witch he belonged to in that moment, gold eyes lazily pinning Fushimi where we was. The last thing Fushimi remembered was fighting with the vampire, looking down at the beheaded corpse with bloodlust and satisfaction, and the look in Yata's eyes when they'd caught each other's gaze for a moment. The surprise, the awe, the respect. But what caught him off guard was the confusion, the conflict. Fushimi was Homra's enemy, they'd made that clear no matter what came of their little temporary truce. After this demon was caught, Fushimi would be back with Scepter 4 completely. It wouldn't matter if Yata was starting to change his mind on whether he liked Fushimi or not. It's not like he gave a damn either way.

Still, breaking eye contact was harder than it should have been, and Fushimi didn't really know where to look afterwords.

He settled on Kusanagi, shoving the odd feeling growing in his chest aside. "So now what?"

"Now you go back to Scepter 4 and rest," Kusanagi said firmly, a touch of concern in his voice. "Seriously, using that much magic at once when you never have before must have been exhausting."

It was. Even now, Fushimi wanted to just lay back down, but being on the same couch as Suoh Mikoto was starting to seriously unsettle him.

Cursing to himself in his head for wanting to sleep in this lion's den he'd gotten himself into, and blaming his thoughts on his exhausted state, he placed a hand on his throbbing temple and slowly set his feet on the floor. "I'm fine." He noted the odd look Yata was directing at Kusanagi, but didn't think too much on it. "Where's my sword?"

Yata blinked and focused on him, frowning and opening his mouth to say something before he hesitated and averted his eyes. "... Don't get mad."

"And yet why do I always end up angry after someone tells me that," Fushimi drawled sarcastically, pressing his index finger harder on his temple to rub out the throb of irritation ringing through his skull. "What did you do?"

"Well, I couldn't carry you _and_ the bat _and_ the sword," Yata defended, crossing his arms and placing his left foot on the couch by Fushimi's left leg. "Should have just brought my bat back."

"Yeah, you should have," Fushimi snapped, standing abruptly and staving off a dizzy spell by some very rapid blinking. "Is it back at the bar?"

"Where you left it," Yata confirmed.

"Where _you_ left it," Fushimi countered, sighing irritably and reaching into his pocket for his PDA. Dead, of course. He scowled. "What time is it?"

"Almost sunrise," Kusanagi jumped in. "Sorry to keep you out all night."

"I'm sure." Taking a deep breath, Fushimi went and snatched his crumpled uniform. He crinkled his nose when he saw that it was wrapped in Yata's red jacket, but decided he should count himself lucky that it wasn't lost or left in some backstreet for someone to steal or something. Last thing he needed was for a civilian to stumble across his sword and either take it or do something stupid, as civilians were quite famously known to do. Clutching his uniform in one hand, he headed for the door without another word, eager to be back to familiar ground.

"See you tomorrow, Saru-chan," Kusanagi called after him, causing the hunter to grit his teeth. "Same time, same place."

Fushimi's only answer was to slam the wooden door as hard as possible on his way out.

Retracing his steps back to the vampires' bar wasn't difficult, but the lack of authorities of any kind around the area was quite unsettling. Sure, Yata kept spouting about how Homra handled their own problems within their jurisdiction, but.. how, exactly? Scepter 4 had enough problems dealing with the police as it was, and they had government ties. And with the amount of humans that had been present, it was surprising- and a bit alarming- that none of them had called the police, at least. Shaking his head to dispel thoughts that would probably never be answered, he turned the final corner and noted, with immeasurable relief, that his sword was still unsheathed and laying where he'd dropped it. Blood was dried along the edges, but Fushimi paid it no mind and sheathed it once he grabbed the abandoned scabbard. He would clean it thoroughly once he got back to HQ; it had definitely seen worse days, so it wouldn't hurt to wait.

He noticed, with his sword securely at his side, that Yata's bat was laying not too far from his left foot, and had a fair amount of dried blood on it. His irritation spiked once again, and he kicked the metal as hard he could. It skittered down the alley, rebounding off of a dumpster and sending waves of sound echoing around him.

"Now where the fuck am I?" he muttered once he composed himself. He had a vague idea of where Homra territory ended and began because of all the investigating he'd done, but it was multiple miles of streets and buildings and also on the other side of the city as Scepter 4. It was going to be quite a bit of walking to get back to base.

Glancing at the sky, the midnight blue fading into a lighter color as the sun slowly rose, he scowled when he realized he didn't have the time to waste. He still needed to report back to Munakata about his mission with the others earlier that night- well, last night. He could catch a bus or train, but... No. No way was he crowding up with a bunch of gross people. He'd rather walk.

That being said, Fushimi _really_ didn't want to walk.

"You could always teleport."

Fushimi's entire body jerked, instinctively pulling a knife out of his sleeve and bringing his arm up to aim. Leaning against the bar was Mikoto, smoke curling up from the cigarette hanging from his lips. He felt his heart bang against his chest plate heavily and painfully, adrenaline spiking once again. "How the hell did you get here?"

Mikoto smirked.

"Right," Fushimi muttered, lowering the knife now that the surprise had worn off. He really didn't want to. It made him feel safer when he was armed and ready to defend himself. But this man was technically his (temporary) ally until he completed the spell and, consequently, his deal with Kusanagi. He needed him, so he wouldn't kill him. Hopefully. "Teleportation, huh?"

"You didn't have any trouble with it last night."

"So idiot Misaki told you about the fight."

"Something like that."

The silence stretched on, both unwilling to break it for different reasons. It was beginning to make Fushimi extremely uncomfortable, the feeling crawling under his skin and settling in his throat. Finally, Mikoto finished his cigarette and flicked it away, the filter catching on fire and burning up mid air. Show off.

"It's not gonna kill you, you know. Not even gonna hurt," Mikoto told him suddenly. "So just do it before it does."

Fushimi narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

Mikoto sighed, pushing himself off the wall easily and coming closer to the smaller witch. He stopped once he saw Fushimi tensing at the distance. "Your magic. It'll eat away at your soul if you don't let it out."

"Weird, hasn't been doing that for the past eighteen years," Fushimi couldn't help but reply, a scowl on his face.

"Hasn't it?" This caused the younger to pause and look down at the ground. It was all Mikoto needed to keep going. "It's just recently been active, so it's worse. Lemme guess, chest pain? Dizzy? Headache? You know it's not normal. It wants out. You're going to have to let it out."

Fushimi was quiet for a moment, letting the information sink in. This witch was older, more experienced, and knew way more than Fushimi did about the whole thing. He was an enemy technically, sure, but he was also trying to teach Fushimi, if only to gain from his aid in the end. At least Mikoto's intentions were clear; as far as he could tell, anyway. Then again, Kusanagi was surprisingly clear about what all Fushimi was required to do, and the contract didn't say anything about doing anything more than training for and performing the location spell. For all Fushimi knew, this was the side effect from performing magic, not the magic in his body wanting to be used.

Still, despite the similarities between this man and that guy, Fushimi couldn't help but think that Mikoto was telling him the truth.

Didn't mean he had to like it, though.

"Am I?"

Mikoto raised an eyebrow at Fushimi's defiant gaze, humming softly to himself. "If you don't wanna go crazy and die."

Fushimi sucked in a harsh breath, eyes widening slightly at his blunt words and the weight of his stare. "Is that..?"

"What happened to your old man?" Mikoto finished for him, frowning and taking his hands out of his pockets. "No. 's still unpleasant, though."

"And why should I believe you?" Fushimi shot back at the man.

"Not my problem if you believe me or not," Mikoto shrugged, looking up at the sky and frowning when he saw the light growing brighter. If Fushimi kept it up, he'd definitely be caught. If he hadn't been, already. "Tryin' to do you a favor, kid. You don't have to make it so hard."

"No one asked you for any favors," the smaller witch snapped, his patience and lack of proper rest overriding his fear and trepidation. "Especially when I'm the son of the witch you kicked out of your coven and the adopted son of your sworn enemy, apparently. What the hell is your end game? Why are you doing this?!"

Silence stretched on once again, only the faint and dying sound of Fushimi's voice echoing off of the walls. When the man started coming forward again, closer into his personal space, Fushimi began to realize the mistake he'd made. There was no change in expression, nothing to even hint that Mikoto was angry or otherwise provoked to attack, but Fushimi still found himself nearly tripping over his own two feet as he backed away from the man. His back connected with the wall, and it began to sink in that he was very out-matched and very weakened even if he weren't. The knife was still in his hand, but when he had only just barely clenched his fingers in preparation for a fight, the knife was sent flying out of his hand and embedded itself into the wooden door of the bar. Mikoto didn't even twitch.

Fushimi was left with nothing to do but stare up into the man's golden eyes, searching for an absolution that he couldn't find, searching for the clarity of Mikoto's intentions that had suddenly slipped from his grasp as easily as his knife. The close proximity was getting to him, his chest rapidly inflating with labored breaths and panic. Mikoto brought a hand up, Fushimi's eyes focused on the Homra symbol tattooed on his palm before they closed tightly. All training, all previous experiences even a fraction similar to the one he was trapped in now, all logic seemed to fly out the window. He felt fingers brush forehead, shifting his hair out of his face and to the side. The touch was gentle, almost caring if he dared to believe he were worthy of such a thing, or that the witch in front of him were capable of such an emotion. Still, the confusion promoted his eyes to open, and his breath hitched when he caught sight of Mikoto's glowing red eyes focused solely on him.

"You'll understand one day."

And then there was a rush of blissful heat, and Fushimi's eyes were fluttering shut and something soft was cradling his head, and he was following Mikoto's faint, echoing command.

"Now, sleep."

 

* * *

 

_"Obviously you would start with that question, I'm sure you've been **dying** to ask it."_

_"And obviously you're not **dying** to tell me."_

_"Ha! You know, it's been a while since anyone with a decent sense of humor was around. To end your anticipation: yes, your father was part of our coven. He joined Homra when he was a few centuries deep in the dark arts, but only stuck around for about a decade before he burned his talisman and renounced his flame."_

_"Renounced his flame and what? What does all that mean?"_

_"Oh right, you've never been part of a coven. Mikoto has these talisman, the one you saw on Yata-chan and the one I have here, and it shows that we're part of his coven and under his protection. If anyone were to strike a fatal blow, his flames would shoot out and burn whoever tried to bring us harm to less than ash. So.. Consider yourself lucky that Mikoto thought Yata-chan had the situation under control when you two fought."_

_"Tch, whatever. So you can just do that? 'Renounce the flame', or whatever?"_

_"It is very painful, but yes. You can."_

_"And you all aren't planning on any kind of revenge?"_

_"Oh yes, that's the whole reason you're here. Against you or your father, however? No. Him leaving Homra wasn't all that much of a loss.... No offense."_

_"Believe me.. None taken."_

 

* * *

 

He hadn't even been in the same room as him for over a minute, but Fushimi was already sick of the smile on his boss's face.

After he'd woken up in his bed, quietly panicking when he realized that Mikoto had brought him back with his magic, he shot up and out the door like his bed was on fire. He was still in his clothes that he and Yata had lifted from that store, his uniform and sword on his desk (he was pleased to note that his father's journal was still remaining where Kusanagi had left it, as were all his scribbled-on papers scattered everywhere on the surface). He received odd looks from a few lower ranks, but didn't bother. He was halfway to Munakata's office in his frantic, frenzied rush when he ran into the man himself. The captain had smiled, gestured towards his office, and asked that Fushimi follow him as if he didn't know that was where he was headed anyway.

And now here he was, standing stiffly in front of his superior's desk, desperately hoping he didn't smell like sulfur and cigarettes and... familiar.

"Akiyama-kun has already given me your report on your mission," Munakata told him, causing Fushimi's eyebrows to raise in surprise as he was reminded of his mission that had ended what seemed like so long ago. Thank the spirits for Akiyama, he really didn't want to try and recall the dreadful monotony of his group mission. Not with everything that was going through his head at the moment, not with what all had happened. No, he was here for something else. Something he'd been avoiding for a bit too long.

"Why?" Fushimi asked heavily.

Knowing he wasn't asking about Akiyama, Munakata sighed as he sat in his chair. "It was necessary to deceive you, I'm afraid. I needed to keep someone in the dark, someone who didn't know of the treaty."

"Why?" Fushimi repeated when Munakata paused.

"So they could break it, of course."

Fushimi's eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing tightly in thought. "... What exactly is in the treaty?"

Munakata's frown lessened, following Fushimi's line of thought and feeling a swell of pride at how perceptive his adopted son was. "It is very thorough. Very few loopholes to work with. However, if it is broken by someone with no knowledge of its existence, they can be pardoned. You were never in any danger of retribution, not really."

"Bullshit," Fushimi scoffed, though there was hardly any bite in his tone. He was used to Munakata lying to him at this point. "I barely know about them, and even I know that Homra's all about revenge. There was always a chance they would retaliate."

"True," his boss agreed, "but Kusanagi Izumo is smarter than to let either of his dogs off their chains before we could meet and discuss the events that unfolded."

".... You still didn't answer my question," the witch muttered, crossing his arms. He decided to stare at the wall instead of up into his captain's purple eyes, his anger fading with the logic presented to him.

Munakata's mouth quirked into that smile Fushimi hated oh so much. "Scepter 4 has jurisdiction on all supernatural happenings in all of Japan, and many other countries that are aware of our organization's... specialized skills. The only place we don't have jurisdiction is in Homra territory." Munakata went over towards the windows of his office, staring out into the trees and beyond visibility. "It's never been a problem before. Homra hunts threats on their turf, Scepter 4 continues fighting the good fight everywhere else. However, there has been recent demonic activity in Homra territory, and I'm afraid to admit that they haven't been keeping the live human count high enough for me to be satisfied." Munakata paused for dramatic effect, but unfortunately Fushimi wasn't in the mood. His nerves were shot to hell, and so with a roll of his eyes, he moved closer to the man and gestured impatiently for him to continue. "In order to fulfill our cause, to keep the citizens safe, we must have access to otherwise inaccessible areas."

"So let me get this straight," Fushimi huffed, glaring at their reflections in the window since Munakata was now facing away from him. "You deliberately kept information away from me for over two years concerning a gang of monsters that I'm apparently not allowed to hunt so that if- a pretty damn big if- something were to go down in Homra's territory, you'd be able to stick your nose into it and hunt there? So I'm, what, some sort of contingency?"

"I prefer the term 'catalyst'."

After a moment's pause, he frowned heavily. "I'm not buying it. Why not just let them deal with it? It's their fault if they can't see what's right under their nose."

Munakata chuckled, turning so that he was facing Fushimi now instead of the glass. "Quite ironic of you to say." Before Fushimi could get too riled up, the captain put a hand on his shoulder. "There are some things that Homra can handle, just as there are some things that they cannot. This is one of them. A mutual enemy of ours, though Suoh will tell you differently. He'd like to claim that demon for himself. And while that man is more than capable of handling himself, I'm afraid this demon knows too much about his weaknesses, and has already crippled him enough as it is."

Fushimi's eyebrows furrowed, not even bothered by the contact his superior had with him. "Suoh Mikoto didn't look very crippled to me."

Munakata smirked. "He's quite good at that, isn't he? Showing off all that power and intimidation." He removed his hand, letting it join the other one that was behind his back. "Everyone has a weakness, Fushimi-kun. Suoh Mikoto's has already been exploited."

"And what would that be?" Fushimi couldn't help but ask.

"His family, of course."

Fushimi couldn't help but snort in amusement. "How cliché." And here he was, thinking Suoh Mikoto was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Turns out he was just as weak as any normal human.

"But effective." Munakata's smile was looking a tad bit tight. And it got Fushimi thinking, what with the dynamic of the group he had just been around not too long ago. It was hard to picture Mikoto caring for anyone, since his expression was always carefully blank or bored. He barely seemed the expressive type, and although Fushimi didn't have much room to talk, it was just hard for him to picture the man as anything but stoic and uncaring.

He suddenly remembered gentle fingers on his forehead not even a couple of hours ago, and felt the world, with all the knowledge as he knew it, tilting on its axis.

"Okay," he said calmly, taking a deep and steady breath to settle his breathing. "So this demon. What's it after?"

"We're not certain," Munakata said begrudgingly. "We have very little information on its plans, what it wants. We don't even know why it has such a bone to pick with Suoh. He says he didn't do anything to it, and for once, I'm inclined to believe him."

Fushimi felt the quiet urge to protest, say that Mikoto could have been lying. But the argument sounded weak even to himself, so he didn't bother. "Alright," he said slowly. "So the increase in demonic activity we've been monitoring lately has to do with Homra." Thank goodness, he could make another connection, however small it was. "And it's their enemy that is the enemy, not necessarily them.." His voice has lowered to a mutter, and he began to pace with his thumb and finger holding onto his chin.

So, Kusanagi hadn't been lying when he said that they would be tracking down a demon that Fushimi would eventually have taken down anyway. Homra just wanted to get to it first. And now, Munakata had taken away Homra's last line of defense in dealing with the problem themselves. There was nothing keeping Scepter 4 out of Homra's territory, not really. The treaty was the hidden safeguard between chaos and order in their city.

And Fushimi had basically destroyed it. Hundreds of years worth of negotiations, regulations, and rules.

He didn't know whether to feel smug and proud or horrified and tricked.

He decided on a combination of all four.

"With all due respect, sir," he said sarcastically. "Why don't you just work with Homra?"

"I never thought I'd see the day where you suggest we work with 'monsters', Fushimi-kun," Munakata chuckled knowingly. He ignored the hateful scowl sent his way and easily replied. "I'm afraid Suoh and I don't always see eye to eye on how to deal with things. Even if he were to agree to work with us, it would only backfire. He's far too reckless to trust with delicate matters such as this."

Fushimi looked down at the marble floor, gritting his teeth because Munakata was right. He knew that working with Homra was wrong, they were the end-game enemy and he didn't trust any of them as far as he could throw them. But he was stuck there until he fulfilled his agreement with Kusanagi. Mikoto didn't seem like the type to think things through. He was a man of action if Fushimi had ever seen one, and his familiar was pretty much the same. Vengeance came first and everything and everyone else could fuck right off. It was written all over their faces, in their eyes.

Suoh Mikoto would get revenge on the demon that managed to find out his weakness and use it against him. Even if he destroyed himself in the process.

Even if he destroyed _everything_ in the process.

 

* * *

 

_"So what the hell are we after, exactly?"_

_"Hell."_

_"Come on, you can't do that. Honest answers."_

_"Fine. A very powerful demon, he's recently started terrorizing and killing Homra's citizens, declaring war on Mikoto. We don't know much about him, just a date of when he sprung free from hell and that he holds the record for most batshit crazy hell spawn. He first showed up here on Earth in the 90's, early 2000's. Caused a fair amount of discord in America- the bad one, further north, then slowly started making his way east, till he arrived at the happy harbor of Japan in 2007. He had dropped off the radar for a short time after the new decade, until..."_

_"Until what?"_

_"He killed the king's vassal."_

_"Really? And what exactly was this 'vassal'?"_

_"Human."_

_"And he associated himself with monsters? Wasn't very smart."_

_"No, I guess he wasn't. He didn't like to listen to reason, especially if it involved leaving Mikoto or I. He was too attached for that... Loyal."_

_"You say that like poison."_

_"Fickle, human emotions. If I were to talk about how they confuse and disgust me, I'm afraid we'd be here all night. Point is, Totsuka Tatara, for all that he was human, was a part of this coven and part of Mikoto's precious family. Revenge clouds the mind, allows for mistakes to happen easier. It's no wonder that Mikoto let me take you, when you think about it. He doesn't want Scepter 4 involved, but can't deny that you're invaluable to his plan. You have the king in quite a pickle."_

_"So what, he doesn't want me here but he wants me here? And you're saying that **that** is weakening him?"_

_"You catch on very quick. Not only does he have revenge clouding his mind, but he also has a delicious swirl of doubt and indecision storming around up there. An indecisive witch is a dead witch. It takes a startling amount of focus to contain the power he has, so even the slightest of slips could be deadly."_

_"You're talking an awful lot about the weakness of your coven."_

_"You need to know what you're getting into. Mikoto is more than capable of taking care of himself, especially against you. He is a very old being."_

_"Tch, and that's stopped me before? Anyway, this demon. Names are very powerful things."_

_"It goes by Colorless. The great Colorless King. He tried to take over Hell a couple of times, but I guess he's realized what a shithole that place is and decided to branch out to the land of the living."_

_"Colorless?"_

_"Yes, why? Sound familiar?"_

_"....... No.... So, you think he wants to rule the world?"_

_"I think he's a narcissist, crazy, doesn't know what he wants. He killed Totsuka, and for what? Just to get Mikoto's attention? Totsuka certainly wasn't going to stop him from taking over the world or whatever he wanted, so what other reason would he have to kill him? Now Mikoto- Mikoto will **destroy** him, so why make him angry? Why poke the bear and ensure your demise? He's cocky, but he knows how powerful Mikoto is, and witches scare the hell out of him. So why would he kill Totsuka and jeopardize his plans, whatever they are?"_

_"You sound bitter about that. Don't tell me that demons are actually capable of feelings, now."_

_"Don't be ridiculous. If demons felt things, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."_

_"Right. So we have no idea where the enemy is, what it wants, and you think I can help you get that?"_

_"I don't gamble, Saru-chan. I get what I want, and I get it with absolute certainty. So no, I don't think._

_"I **know** you can get me what I want."_

 

* * *

 

The very next night after the vampire attack, Yata wasn't surprised to find the traitor back at the bar, but he was a little shocked that Kusanagi would be taking over the training.

"I found a book that's more helpful than you idiots," he had said, waving the nondescript black book tauntingly. "He needs to focus. He can't do that with you distracting him and you snoring every ten minutes. I'll take care of it from here." The demon had then proceeded to lock himself and Fushimi in one of the rooms above the bar.

Thing is... Yata couldn't feel any magic. Well, for the first two hours, he couldn't. Just what could they be doing up there, if not practicing for the spell? It was driving him insane, to be left out of the loop like that, to not know how it was going, if Kusanagi had decided Fushimi wasn't fun anymore and killed him instead. The thought kept circling in his head, reminding him of his epic inner conflict he hadn't yet resolved.

"For the last time, they're fine," Mikoto huffed, peaking open an eye to trace Yata's frantic, pacing steps. "You're keeping me awake."

"Sorry, Mikoto-san," Yata apologized automatically, clenching his fists and jaw. "I just... I don't get Kusanagi-san anymore, you know? It's like, the closer we get to this thing, the more he... changes? Does that make any sense?"

Mikoto sat up slowly, sighing heavily and leaning his head back on the top of the couch. "Izumo has changed. And not in a good way."

"I knew it!" Hearing confirmation from his witch was all he needed to put him at ease. He halted his steps, turning toward Mikoto and beaming. "I knew he's been off since.. Well, you know. But it's like, the more we hunt for this demon, the, the..."

"Nastier he gets?" Mikoto offered when Yata's words stalled, and the familiar nodded. "Demons' emotions are different than ours. They don't get attached; they get possessive. Totsuka was his, we're all his."

"He sure doesn't act like it," Yata snapped finally, a dam of emotions pouring out. "We're supposed to be a family. It was so much easier when Totsuka-san was alive, because Kusanagi-san actually acted like he cared, like _actually_ cared. Was it all an act? Is he just this cold, heartless _demon_?"

Mikoto lifted his head to look at Yata so that the familiar knew he was serious. "I first met Izumo at the crossroads." Yata blinked at the sudden turn the conversation took, but kept his mouth shut at the look Mikoto was giving him. "Sold my soul to him for more power." Yata's breath hitched. "You know what he did, ten years later?"

Yata shook his head.

"He ate it."

A lungful of air escaped his lips incredulously.

"For as long as I've known him, he was evil. A necessary one. But he's proven himself to be capable of human emotions, he just needs the right... amount, given to him."

Another gasp. "So, Totsuka-san, he was...?"

Mikoto nodded and confirmed what Yata was thinking, "He was injecting his blood into Izumo. Making him human. All to get my soul back."

"Totsuka-san's been gone for over half a year, though... Has it really taken so long for Kusanagi-san to start slipping?"

"It was a strong spell, but we didn't get to finish it," Mikoto muttered, his stare pinning Yata where he was with its severity. "And I'm going to teach it to you, now."

"Why?" Yata asked curiously. "Do you need my help now?"

"You'll need to know it, one day," was all he said before cracking his knuckles. "Sit. Let's get to work."

 

* * *

 

_"So now that you've told me everything, from what you know of my father, to the enemy, and even Suoh Mikoto's weaknesses, you're going to tell me something else."_

_"Oh? Have a piqued your interest in something, perhaps? Or have you been holding onto this since you made the deal?"_

_"As a matter of fact, I have. I want you to tell me about Misaki."_

_"My, are you quick to get attached."_

_"I'm not-!"_

_"Of course not, you're just scouting out the enemy, aren't you? Very well, I'll indulge you, but only because I know very little, myself."_

_"Careful, Kusanagi-san, you may give yourself an ulcer if you're about half as stressed as you look."_

_"Mikoto is a man of few words. Getting information out of him about his familiar is worse than pulling teeth, and believe me, pulling teeth is **very** hard. Little bastards are pretty tough."_

_"Um, ew?"_

_"Anyway, Yata doesn't talk much about his past, and he's surprisingly hard to trick. Mikoto of course knows what I'm doing, so it's not like I can trick information out of him. He always talks about how their bond is a connection of souls, as old as magic itself- which, I think he means familiars and witches in general, because I knew him in the Dark Ages and there was no Yata-chan around back then. So yeah, 'sacred bond' with some pretty heavy binding magic, the strongest I've ever seen or heard about. I know that when a familiar's 'true witch' dies, so do they, but other than that, I have no idea what kills them. They're immortal for all I know."_

_"And there's no text about them?"_

_"I've got connections to a lot of libraries, half of which aren't even on this Plane, and there's nothing documented about familiars. If I didn't see Yata-chan for myself, I'd say that they didn't exist."_

_"Hm.."_

_"Why the interest? Thinking of finding yourself a familiar?"_

_"Please, why would I do that?"_

_"Because they make you more powerful, of course.."_

_".... I think that's the first thing you haven't wanted to tell me."_

_"Well, there aren't many things that I do that aren't what I want to. You just happen to put me in the rare position where I have to make a few sacrifices."_

_"Likewise. I think you've given me about as much information as you can, which is pretty rare of me to say."_

_"Easy, right? All it cost was a little humanity. Now, on to today's lesson..."_

 

* * *

 

"Again, I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am. We'll try to keep this as brief as possible.."

Fushimi was listening to Hidaka as much as the soot-covered and glassy-eyed woman was. So far, she had been responding slowly but lucidly, but her eyes couldn't seem to settle on any certain thing. They wandered constantly- the ambulance nearby certainly held the most of her attention, however. Her infant son, six months old if Fushimi remembered correctly (he did), was being treated for mild smoke inhalation. Then, of course, the bright lights of multiple fire trucks and police cars would catch her attention briefly before she would focus on Hidaka to answer a question she had surely just caught the tail end of.

Then, of course, her eyes would find their way to the smoldering remains of her house before quickly darting away. She looked there the most frequently, but also for the shortest amount of time.

Fushimi's attention, however, was on the firemen.

Despite all that had happened the past few weeks, Fushimi still had a job as a professional hunter he needed to focus on, and was currently working on a casefile he had spent the better part of two years forming. He had managed to string together a slew of demonic arsons disguised as regular house fires a little over a month into working at Scepter 4, and his work on the case and the information he managed to bring into the organization as a result impressed Munakata greatly, and that was when Fushimi started rising in the ranks. By his seventeenth birthday, he was already in the main hunting squad. By the next new year, he was the third in command of the most prestigious hunting organization in the world.

And it was well-earned, too. Fushimi had worked hard to connect decades of arsons that most people wrote off as accidents. But unfortunately for that demon, Fushimi wasn't a blind moron.

All fires were started when the newest additions to the soon-to-be-smoldering houses turned six months old. It was too much of a coincidence that any survivors from the fires died under thinly-veiled accidents within a year after the fires, as well. Everyone, of course, except the orphaned six-month-olds.

No, Fushimi wasn't blind. He wasn't a moron, either.

And he was certainly a lot more... 'enlightened' than he had been a few weeks prior.

Fushimi took his eyes away from the firemen for a moment, focusing back on the newly-widowed women and his partner for this particular crime scene investigation. "... -ll you can remember? It's very important.."

"Its eyes were yellow," she said, her voice sounding as far away as her eyes looked. "Like hellfire..."

Hidaka clenched his jaw tightly, pressing the button on his PDA to end the audio recording much too hard for the piece of technology. "Right." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a stark contrast to the rough treatment his PDA had received. "I'm sorry to have kept you so long. We'll be in touch if we have any other questions. Now, go be with your child, Akahiro-san."

The woman nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaking down her dirty face at the mention of her son.

Oddly, Fushimi felt compelled to offer his own reassurances, something that he never did. Perhaps it was something to do with the sight he was greeted with when he'd first approached the scene. Perhaps he was making this promise to her- something he didn't even do to people who weren't strangers, because promises are one of the easiest things to break- because she wouldn't remember it very soon, once those pesky rabbits got a hold of her and anyone else who might have seen anything unnatural. "Akahiro-san."

The woman turned slightly, a shaky frown pulling her lips down. "Yes, sir?"

Fushimi looked her straight in her teary eyes. "I _will_ catch what did this."

And maybe she saw something in his eyes, because the woman smiled for the first time. She didn't say anything, just turned around and headed for the ambulance, but she was no longer shaking.

Hidaka turned to look at him in surprise, but Fushimi had already focused back on the firemen. There was something off about one of them. He looked average, dark eyes and hair, going about securing the scene with the rest of his goodie goodie firemen. Nothing seemed outwardly out of he ordinary.. But Fushimi couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with that particular fireman.

"Fushimi-san?"

The world suddenly shrank inward, familiar tunnel vision crashing into his senses and blocking most of everything out. Sirens and voices disappeared, as did the lights. Everything stood frozen for an indefinite amount of time, but long enough.

The man's soul was black.

Reality came rushing back like a wave, causing him to suck in a sudden breath. He stumbled slightly at the wave of _light_ and _sound_ that overloaded his senses, but didn't have to worry about tripping, because Hidaka was grabbing his arm to stabilize him. Fushimi's eyes darted over to Hidaka, lingering just for a second before looking back at the fireman.

He was gone.

Using Hidaka as a springboard, he managed to get good momentum going for a sprint. Ignoring Hidaka's shouted questions at his back, he ran past the first firetruck and around towards the back, weaving between the regular humans and taking the moment where he had to slow down to scan the area. His senses flashed again, the backs of bright yellow uniforms disappearing to a glowing white as he searched for the demon. Nowhere within his eyesight, and he was running again.

He vaguely heard Hidaka in pursuit after him, shouting his name. There wasn't time to explain, not when all of his attention needed to be focused on the chase. He _would_ catch this demon.

The world shrank in again without warning, and Fushimi barely had time to brace himself against the furthest firetruck from the house. His shoulder hit the metal hard, causing him to wince, but the sight in front of him had him pushing away from the vehicle in a fighting position, three knives falling into his grasp. There, in the grayscale landscape of Fushimi's vision, stood the blackened form of the fireman that had kept his attention the entire time he'd been on the scene. He'd taken his helmet off, casually resting it between his arm and hip, his other arm slightly behind his back. He had a grin on his face, staring at the hunter like he was greeting an old friend and not here to cause his demise.

"Took you long enough," the man said, casually stepping closer and within ten feet of Fushimi. Good, that meant his knife would go deeper. Three more feet and he could probably stab into him up to the iron hilt, which was always nice when dealing with supernaturals of the sulfur kind.

"I'd say two years is fair enough for how long you've gone unbothered," Fushimi clicked his tongue, scowling when he heard Hidaka finally catch up to him. His steps stuttered as he stopped, surprise evident without Fushimi needing to look at him, but took a stance and drew his gun quickly enough.

The demon chuckled, shifting so his other hand was visible. A bright red ax was held loosely in his left hand, and he heaved it over his shoulder easily to rest his arm against it in an act of intimidation. Fushimi took a step back immediately, eyes narrowed at the close proximity that he had been thankful for a moment prior, and fell back in line with Hidaka. At least his stupid witch vision was fading- with the world so weird looking, it was hard to focus on his target. The demon seemed pleased with Fushimi's retreat and stopped, dropping his helmet on the pavement. "Fushimi Saruhiko. I know I should be impressed, but honestly I'm just a little disappointed. Daddy didn't teach you any tricks, did he?"

Great, did everyone know he was a witch? He couldn't have this guy with his loose lips ruining his career. He drew his sword with a rough grin, fingers tightly wound around the gold as adrenaline flooded his system. "Fushimi, battou!"

"Sir?!" Hidaka yelped, eyes widening when his superior darted into close combat with the demon. Protocol stated to be wary of demons, to take the appropriate measures to ensure the loss of human life was as little as possible. Which meant, of course, whoever the poor bastards were that those unholy pricks hijacked. But Fushimi looked ready to slice the poor guy to ribbons, no matter what anyone had to say about it. If Hidaka didn't know any better, he'd say that that was what Fushimi was going to do.

But he'd never hurt a civilian, and he always had a plan. Hidaka just had to be ready, and watch his comrade's back in the meantime.

While Fushimi ducked a blow from the ax, Hidaka tried to aim at the demon. But then his superior was back in the line of fire, swinging his sword with as much weight as he could. The demon jumped back, and grabbed Fushimi's leg when he used the momentum of his earlier strike to try and kick his head. Before he could throw the hunter, a knife was embedded into his wrist and he was forced to release his grip. Fushimi stumbled back slightly, sword held diagonally in front of him as he panted and regained his balance. The fireman grabbed the hilt, only to let go with a shout when his hand started burning.

"Like the taste of iron, you son of a bitch?" Fushimi grinned nastily. He'd been waiting for this confrontation for two years, and was ultimately surprised with how it was going. He expected something a little more from the demon that had evaded him for such a long amount of time. "Bet you'll like this even more. Hidaka!"

At the sharp call of his name, the hunter was pulling the trigger as Fushimi ducked. His aim held true, piercing into the man's left shoulder and causing him to drop his ax. An inhuman snarl came from the man's lips, looking Hidaka in the eye and glaring fiercely as his eyes flickered.

Both hunters felt ice in their veins when the demon's eyes turned a sickly yellow, not the normal black color. It confirmed for certain two things: this was the demon Fushimi had been hunting for two years, and this demon was also very powerful.

His face lit up in a grin at their expressions, standing tall and firm with a knife sticking out of his wrist and a bullet wound in his shoulder. "You missed."

Hidaka's eyebrows furrowed, but then his eyes widened when he understood what the demon was talking about. He had been too close; the force of the bullet had not only pierced his shoulder, it had gone completely through it.

Rendering the devil's trap etched onto the bullet completely useless.

His gun was yanked out of his hand, and he vaguely registered Fushimi cursing and grabbing his now empty hand. The smaller hunter starting tugging them away just as a shot hit the truck where Hidaka's head had been.

"Let's see how you like it!"

Hidaka glanced back to see an amused grin and his own Scepter 4 issued gun aimed at him before he was abruptly yanked to the right. Another shot rang through the air, the bullet ricocheting off the metal vehicles.

"You idiots, run!"

It took a second to register that Fushimi, for once, wasn't calling him an idiot. He was addressing the crowd that had gathered, firemen and policemen and curious civilians alike, their focus shifting from the pile of ash that used to hold a house to the gunshots that were ringing in the air. Thankfully, the police weren't completely useless, and began corralling the rapidly scattering people to a safe distance.

"Get a perimeter back as far as Tsutai!" Fushimi shouted to the nearest policeman. He barely paused to get that he comprehended before continuing, hand unstrapping the holster to his gun and pulling it out. "Code 3-07, class S4!" Hidaka felt Fushimi push him forward with their momentum from running and let go of his hand, tossing the gun at the shocked hunter. "Take command and call in back up!"

"Fushimi-san!" Hidaka yelled after him, but the man in question was already darting back towards the haphazardly parked emergency vehicles in preparation for a continuation of the fight with the demon. Gritting his teeth, he brought his PDA up to his ear as it worked on connecting him to Scepter 4 Headquarters, turning towards the citizens and obediently taking over barking out orders for Fushimi. He would have time to beat himself up over his actions later, right now they both had a job to do.

The witch drew a few knives as he rounded the first firetruck, ducking into a roll when a bullet almost pierced his chest. Once he was right-side-up again, he let the knife in his hand fly. The demon knocked it out of the air easily without even a blink, but Fushimi was already moving before he could aim again. Standing from his crouched position, he threw his other two knives in quick succession, forcing the demon to swivel out of the way to block and screwing with his aim in the process. By the time the demon had corrected it and fired, Fushimi was already jumping through the area where the firemen sat on the outside of the truck, causing him to miss. He rushed forward to chase the hunter, aiming again as the smaller male jumped onto the asphalt on the other side of the truck. He fired, hitting the window of a house and not the little witch's head like he'd wanted.

Fushimi's heart felt like it would burst as he ran along the length of the truck, but he kept his breathing light to remain calm. Instead of staying on the ground, he grabbed the silver handle and pulled himself back onto the vehicle. He tried to stay as quiet as possible, creeping across the metal before heaving himself up towards where the ladder was resting, unused.

"Smart thinking, getting all the fleshy humans out of the way," he heard the demon say. It sounded like he was still on the ground, and looking for Fushimi in the same place. Taking a quiet breath and silently thanking that the demon was in the mood to play, he glanced around to see what was at his disposal to use as a weapon. His knives were becoming more of a liability, as usual with high tier demons, and there wasn't a way to get close enough to use his sword without getting shot- or worse, caught. There wasn't much to work with, the ladder was too heavy.. "But I think I quite like this vessel. He's a closet arsonist." The thing was laughing now, but Fushimi just rolled his eyes and remained focused on his task. There were plenty of items on this damn truck to use against humans, but there weren't many things useful against demons. Nothing that seemed made of iron, no salt, no holy wat-

Huh. Now there was a thought.

Quickly developing a plan that would hopefully not put any holes in his body, Fushimi crawled along the ladder towards the engine. It wouldn't be long before the demon realized that Fushimi wasn't with him on the ground, and would come looking. "Come on out, Saruhiko. You've been looking for me for so long and now you're going to hide up there like a little coward?"

The hunter rose to his feet and ran when he heard his cover blown, not glancing back. He could hear the demon rapidly climbing up to join him, and had just jumped onto the roof of the engine as the fireman reached the ladder. Instead of shooting, most likely realizing how unlikely it was for the shot to meet its mark, he held his hand out, and Fushimi felt a force knock into his back, propelling him forward into the side of another truck. He hit the metal and the asphalt equally hard, gasping for breath that was stolen from him upon impact, and coughed roughly every time he tried to breathe out. He heard the demon jump down and managed to raise his throbbing head to glare up at him.

"There he is," the man grinned, crouching down and aiming the gun at Fushimi with his injured wrist. He grabbed the hilt again, grimacing at the burn as he pulled the knife out. Blood spattered on the road, his knife joining it as the man released his grip on the weapon. "Ugh, that's a nasty little trick."

"My daddy taught me," Fushimi said sarcastically, grabbing another blade from his harness discreetly and surging forward while the demon was distracted to stab him viciously in the eye. Poor guy he was possessing was already dead from how much his wrist bled when the knife was pulled out.

Shame, Fushimi liked his live count to stay very high. But if it came down to his ass or the other guy's whose meatsuit was currently trying to murder him, some sacrifices had to be made.

While the demon screeched, Fushimi took the opportunity to roll up underneath the cover of the firetruck. Just in time, too, as a flurry of bullets rained down on the spot where he had been lying a split second before. The gun clicked, its magazine empty, and the demon sent it flying through the window of a truck in rage. Fushimi didn't waste any time now that he'd thoroughly managed to piss it off, scrambling to his feet and towards the vehicle that's hose was connected to the fire hydrant.

There were no footsteps in pursuit for a blessed moment, which gave Fushimi enough time to make it to the hydrant and pull out a rosary from the pocket on the inside of his uniform jacket. Clutching the blue beads, he looked at the hydrant and furrowed his eyebrows. How the hell was he supposed to bless the water when there was no visible water for the rosary to touch? Normally, a rosary was dropped into the water to purify it (spiritually purify, of course), but the water from the hose was either in the hose or in the ground, and would only be on the surface after it was expelled from the hose. He had no source to work with.

He looked up when he heard a deep snarl, eyes snapping to the truck where the valve was. He needed to turn it on. He needed to find a way to purify the water. He needed to aim the hose at the demon.

He needed more time.

"You're no fun," it growled, sending chills up Fushimi's spine with the grin that accompanied the otherworldly sound. "At least your father had a sense of humor."

"I'm nothing like him," Fushimi spat, backing towards the truck and dragging the spout of the hose with him by pretending to trip over it. If there was one thing that he knew about demons, it's that they loved the sound of their own voice. If he could keep it talking, he could stall long enough for him to figure something out.

Unfortunately for him, this demon seemed smarter than average, and sneered at the rosary in his hand. "You seriously thought you could bless that water before I found you? Surely you're smarter than that.."

"Smart enough to outlast you in a fight," Fushimi snorted, smirking at the scowl he received. "Who's the one bleeding all over the place and missing an eye, again?" He gasped when he was pushed up against the truck, the rosary dropping to the ground when his back impacted with the metal.

The demon strolled forward slowly, eyes lazily raking up Fushimi's struggling frame. "It's a shame that I'll have to kill you. You had a bit of potential; as much as a witch raised as a human can have, anyway."

"You think you can kill me?" Fushimi laughed bitterly, grinning up at the fireman. He felt blood run down the side of his face and subtly angled his head so it was hidden from the demon. "You'll burn in hell for eternity before you ever even get close."

Suddenly, the man was _incredibly_ close, causing Fushimi to press his head further against the metal to get away from the horrid smell of sulfur and smoke. Oh, and he was holding one of Fushimi's knives to his throat. What was it with this demon and using their weapons? It probably had something to do with his ego, but Fushimi didn't have a lot of room to psychoanalyze and judge. "How's this for close?"

Fushimi stared up into his yellow eyes, muscles locked into position against his command, neck wide open for the demon, and had to rethink his earlier statement. He certainly didn't have the upper hand anymore, because once a demon had you pinned, there was very little you could do unless you had outside help. His outside help was too busy with the humans clearing the area and putting a plan in place for when backup arrived.

Screw it. He wasn't dying today. He had work to do.

Clenching his jaw tightly, he focused on the water in the hose, breathing deeply and concentrating. It slowly rose in the air just behind the demon, aiming to the side of him. His headache slowly slipped away, the bruises that surely littered his back losing the sharp sting of pain, and the panic calmed inside his mind. He barely registered the expression the demon had when the holy water blasted him away from Fushimi. The witch dropped to the ground on his hands and knees when he was released from the telekinetic hold, his attention snapping immediately to the threat. The demon growled and snarled from the intense pressure of the holy water, blessed by Fushimi's magic and not the rosary like originally planned. While the creature was writhing, the witch quickly jumped to his feet and reached for his handcuffs. The weight of the silver was a welcome comfort, steadying his hands enough so he wasn't fumbling to open them. His aching legs carried him over to the one-eyed fireman, turning the hose away to avoid getting wet before securing his hold on the demon's wrist. He managed to get one cuff snapped shut on his wrist before he was knocked onto his back, his head hitting the asphalt once again. His headache came back full-force, nausea halting his movements completely and forcing him to remain on the ground. Unfortunately, it gave the demon the upper hand again, and the taller man was standing over his prone form in seconds.

"Fuck," Fushimi groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again to try and stabilize his vision. No such luck.

Burns were rapidly healing on the face that was looking down at him, his eye socket grotesquely bleeding red and pink because of the water. Looking at the damage he'd done, Fushimi could understand the creature's rage at the moment. He was trapped in that injured vessel now, thanks to the handcuffs scratched all to hell with all sorts of sigils to trap anything and everything. For a high tier demon such as this, defeat was a bitter pill to swallow, and he was getting very close to losing.

Then again, Fushimi's vision was rapidly growing dark. No surprise, considering the size of concussion he was sporting, but bad news nonetheless. He reached for another knife, but his hand was jerked down to the pavement before he could even come close to his harness. Reaching for Subaru warranted the same treatment on his other hand. "Pretty damn close," the hunter finally answered, letting his eyes shut. "But you forgot that you're not the only one with mojo." When his eyes opened again, they were glowing.

The colors around him were sharper, the air filling with the same electricity as the night he'd fought the vampire. The nearest humans were a block away, at the corner of Tsutai street where he'd sent them, and he could hear the rapidly approaching sirens of Scepter 4's emergency response vehicles in the distance. His senses expanded dramatically, taking in everything from his surroundings before focusing on the entity above him. He relished the look of surprise on the demon's face as he sent it flying back, a parody of its own attack, into a police car. The entire side caved in from the force.

Fushimi sat up slowly, rubbing his head more in habit than actual pain. His body felt completely numb, the very tips of his fingers just barely tingling. The sensation was familiar, despite having only felt it once, and the rush was welcomed eagerly to spread throughout his veins. The oxygen he breathed in felt completely pure, settling in his head like an intoxicating fog.

He felt more powerful in that instant than he had in his entire life, and couldn't help but momentarily wonder why this was such a bad thing?

"Why did you start the fires?" Fushimi asked calmly as he rose to his feet, stepping towards the crumpled form of the demon leisurely.

"Think I'll talk just cause you throw me around a little?" the man laughed, blood in his teeth as he grinned at the witch. "I'm not the type to give up my plan so easily. It's taken a long time, after all."

Fushimi squeezed his hand, tilting his head curiously when the demon started choking on black smoke. "See, thing is, I don't know much about magic," he admitted. "Shit teacher, I guess. But I've been told that my particular breed of witch doesn't necessarily need to learn the way others do. At first, I thought it was ridiculous.." The more his fingers curled, the closer he came to making a fist, the more the man sputtered and coughed on its own smoke. "But here we are. No spells, just my very _vivid_ imagination.."

The demon screamed, half of his corrupted soul being tugged forcefully out and the other remaining trapped in the fireman because of the handcuffs. "Stop!"

"I can feel your soul ripping in two," Fushimi said casually, glowing eyes locked into the demon's own yellow one. Smoke started filtering out of the eye socket, causing more blood to pour down the paling skin. "Must be painful."

"Go to hell!" the demon snapped, fingernails scraping the asphalt and leaving bloody marks.

"Show me the way," Fushimi smirked, fingers closing tightly into a fist.

The man threw his head back and screamed louder than he had before, smoke spasming around him. "Okay, OKAY!!"

Fushimi loosened his fist, fingers comfortably relaxing as the demon panted for breath. "That's more like it."

Glaring up at the witch, he took a deep breath. "I'll only tell you if you kill me afterwords. No sending me back to hell, nothing like that." At Fushimi's raised eyebrow, he rolled his eye. "Crazy boss."

"Right," the hunter muttered, having heard the request before. Odd that such a powerful demon had a boss, however. At the mention of bosses, he became acutely aware of his own that was surely going to crash Fushimi's (albeit, very public) interrogation any second now. "Go on, then."

"It's all about the children," the evil cooed, grinning at Fushimi's disgusted look. "Little brats are more trouble than they're worth, if I'm honest. But the boss needs a suitable vessel, a nice little general born just for him." He paused long enough to shrug, hissing slightly as the action pulled at his wounded shoulder. "More or less, anyway."

"Thought demons could possess anyone," Fushimi muttered, narrowing his eyes and raising his hand again. "I really hope you're not lying to me..."

"I swear!" The fireman's eye darted around, and that's when Fushimi heard his squad surrounding the vehicles that were shielding the two supernaturals from the outside world. He was running out of time. "He's not like other demons, he needs a specific vessel! One with demon blood infused with regular human genetics, introduced soon enough to be able to blend perfectly, but not too soon."

"Otherwise the demon blood would completely corrupt it," Fushimi murmured to himself. "One more question." It was all he had time for, the rest he would just have to figure out for himself. Figures, he could never quite catch a break. He stepped closer, carefully expanding his senses to keep his third eye on his teammates. Akiyama and Benzai were going to fuck everything up if they managed to get on top of the firetrucks before he could finish. He appreciate the thought of an overhead ambush, but he really didn't need them interfering. "Who's your boss?" When the demon hesitated to answer, he lost his patience and clenched his fingers into a tight fist. The demon started choking on its own smokey soul again, not even able to scream from the increasing pressure the witch was ruthlessly applying. "WHO?!"

" **COLORLESS**!"

Fushimi's gasped sharply, his magic lashing out harder in his shock before he could call it off. The smoke fell lifelessly to the ground, shifting from black smoke to golden sulfur. It poured out of every orifice on the unfortunate firefighter's face, mixing with the smell of blood to create a sickening concoction. The witch slapped a hand over his mouth, letting his trembling form lean against the vehicle so he wouldn't go crashing to the ground.

Colorless. _Just a date, time, and the word 'colorless'._

It was official. His father _was_ fucking with him from beyond the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are ready for the next chapter, cause I sure ain't :)


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